How People Start Listening
by Devin Jaste
Summary: Quinn goes to Rachel's MySpace page and finds a new video Rachel's posted. Now, can she help her get better before everything falls apart? This starts out around Christmas of Season 2. It will be Faberry eventually, with probably a side of Brittana. Also, trigger warnings for stuff.
1. Chapter 1: MySpace

**Author's Note: I don't really know where this story came from. I don't know how long it will be. The idea hit me today, and I just wanted to see what would happen. I hope you find it interesting if nothing else.**

* * *

Quinn scrolled through the songs on her iPod, trying to find something to listen to. She was getting ready for her date with Sam on another Saturday night while trying to figure out what to get him for Christmas, and she needed the perfect music for the mood. God, maybe she was spending too much time in Glee Club. Not everything had to be set to music. She wasn't that munchkin diva, Rachel Fucking Berry.

She stopped suddenly, remembering a Christmas song she hadn't heard in a while. It always worked to get her in the Christmas spirit, and that's what she really needed right now. Besides, she shouldn't be mean to Rachel, even in her head. The girl had just been dumped by her boyfriend for cheating on him with Puck. And, really, who hasn't made that mistake? What was it that thinking of Rachel had reminded her of, though?

Quinn walked over to her desk and sat in front of her computer, opening up a link to Rachel's MySpace page. It had been a favorite pastime of Quinn's to post horrendous insults in the comments sections of her videos. It had been a long time since she'd done that. Not since she'd been kicked out. Not since Rachel had screwed up her life by telling Finn that Puck was the father of the baby. But that hadn't really been her fault either. When she'd said she wasn't mad at Rachel, it had been true. The truth needed to come out. She'd been so tired of lying.

So after all that drama, Quinn had called a personal cease-fire on Rachel-bashing. Let Santana and the rest of the school do whatever they wanted, but Quinn certainly wasn't in any place to make fun of Rachel. She had been pregnant, homeless, off the Cheerios. Even now, when she'd gotten all that back, she still wasn't feeling it.

Sure, she was captain of the Cheerios again, and she was dating a cute football player again, and she was a shoo-in to winning Junior Prom Queen this year. But those were the only things that were the same. Quinn had changed.

She scrolled down through the list of songs the brunette had posted to her MySpace page, and... God, why were there so many show tunes? Scrolling down to Christmas of last year, she found the one she was looking for. Rachel had done a cover of "Where are you Christmas?" from the Grinch movie, and it had quickly become Quinn's favorite Christmas song of all-time.

She'd never admit it to anyone since she could barely admit it to herself, but Rachel Berry had quickly become her favorite singer, too. Ever since joining Glee Club to try and keep Finn away from her. It had been one of the first perks of joining the stupid club that she didn't consider stupid anymore. Quinn was in love with Rachel's voice even though she hated who it was attached to most of the time.

Listening through the song twice put Quinn in a decidedly better mood as she finished getting ready for her date. Sam wouldn't be here for another half hour, but she promised to have a sit-down with her mom before she left. Something about family bonding time now that Christmas was rolling around again. Quinn had a sneaking suspicion it was to make up for past drunken Christmases with her father, as well as make sure that Quinn wasn't pregnant again.

Another song caught Quinn's eye as she glanced over at the monitor, and she realized that not everything Rachel did was show tunes. "Smile" was actually a pretty decent song. Pausing to scroll up, Quinn noted that not _everything_ was show tunes. She also noted the dates on the videos.

While most of them were posted every day to every couple of days, it seemed that once Rachel had joined Glee Club, she started slacking off on her MySpace account. They became further and further apart, separated by weeks, then months. Curious, Quinn scrolled to the top to see when Rachel had posted her last video, when the little diva had given up on MySpace.

Looking at the top video, Quinn looked at the date and time on it and paused. That couldn't be right. It said 6:14pm, December 18th, 2010. That was today's date. Glancing down at the time on her monitor, she noted it was 6:23. It was less than ten minutes ago. It was strange to think that Rachel was posting a video while Quinn was busy listening to another of her songs. She felt, for a foolish second, like she'd been caught doing something wrong, but she quickly brushed that aside. Rachel couldn't have known that she was doing it.

Quinn looked at the time again, said "Screw it,", then clicked the play button.

Rachel appeared on her screen, and Quinn hit the button to maximize it, causing the brunette to fill her screen. "Hey, everyone," she said quietly into her camera. It sounded like she had been crying again. "I don't know if anyone actually watches these, but I really needed to sing tonight, so if anyone does, I hope you listen. And I hope you understand. I hope someone finds this out there on the internet and it gets back to all of Lima, Ohio."

Rachel took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "I just don't want anyone to think it's their fault. I don't blame Finn. I really don't. I was the one that screwed up and cheated on him. And, I certainly don't blame my dads. Divorce is a natural part of life sometimes, and maybe they'll have happier lives now that they're free from each other and free from me."

Quinn's breath caught in her throat. Something about this video was off. What was Rachel talking about? Her parents were getting divorced? Why hadn't she said anything in Glee?

"And Shelby... I'm sure if you find out about this sooner or later, you might have the inclination to blame yourself, but don't. Just because you chose Beth over me, just because you wanted a younger newer model that no one else had played with rather than these damaged goods... well, can anyone really fault you for that? I sure can't. Who would want me, anyway?"

Quinn's heart raced when she heard Beth's name. She always thought about her as _the_ _baby_. Never as _her_ baby, and most certainly never as "Beth". That made it too real for Quinn, and the more distance she could put between her and the baby, the better. Hearing Rachel say her name was such a shock that she nearly missed Rachel's next words.

"So, without further adieu," Rachel said with a chuckle and a bow, "I present to you a double feature for your listening and watching pleasure. I know it's not my usual genres of music, so you may be a little put off, but it has a most important message. Enjoy."

The first song started slowly and, at first, Quinn had no idea what it was. It wasn't until the chorus that she remembered it from living with Puck last year. She'd never heard it sung so slowly or sadly before.

_"Cut my life into pieces  
This is my last resort, _

_Suffocation, no breathing  
Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm bleeding  
This is my last resort  
This is my last resort_

_Cut my life into pieces  
I've reached my last resort, _

_Suffocation, no breathing  
Don't give a fuck if I cut my arms bleeding  
Do you even care if I die bleeding?  
Would it be wrong, would it be right?  
If I took my life tonight,  
Chances are that I might  
Mutilation out of sight  
and I'm contemplating suicide_

_'Cause I'm losing my sight, losing my mind_  
_Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine_  
_Losing my sight, losing my mind_  
_Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine_

_I never realized I was spread too thin_  
_'Til it was too late and I was empty within_  
_Hungry, feeding on chaos and living in sin_  
_Downward spiral, where do I begin?_  
_It all started when I lost my mother_  
_No love for myself and no love for another_  
_Searching to find a love upon a higher level_  
_Finding nothing but questions and devils_

_'Cause I'm losing my sight, losing my mind_  
_Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine_  
_Losing my sight, losing my mind_  
_Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine_  
_Nothing's alright, nothing is fine_

_I'm running and I'm crying_  
_I'm crying, and I'm crying,_

_and I'm crying, and I'm crying  
I can't go on living this way_

_Cut my life into pieces_  
_This is my last resort, suffocation, no breathing_  
_Don't give a fuck if I cut my arms bleeding_  
_Do you even care if I die bleeding?_  
_Would it be wrong, would it be right?_  
_If I took my life tonight, chances are that I might_  
_Mutilation out of sight and I'm contemplating suicide_

_'Cause I'm losing my sight, losing my mind_  
_Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine_  
_Losing my sight, losing my mind_  
_Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine_  
_Nothing's alright, nothing is fine_

_I'm running and I'm crying_

_and I'm crying, and I'm crying, _

_and I'm crying, and I'm crying"_

By the time Rachel had finished the song, Quinn's eyes were wide and she was leaning forward, staring at her monitor. Surely she couldn't be... This couldn't be...

"That was song number one," Rachel said with a glazed look on her face. "I know, it's rock and I don't really do rock, but still... The next song is country, so, again, enjoy."

This song Quinn did know. She actually really liked the song, but... she'd never heard it like this before. It wasn't just that Rachel had changed some of the words to fit her situation. No, it was the mournful, hopeless, beautiful voice Rachel had that made it unlike anything Quinn had ever heard. She was on the verge of tears already, and as she watched Rachel sing, they started rolling down her face.

_"If I die young, bury me in satin_  
_Lay me down on a bed of roses_  
_Sink me in the river at dawn_  
_Send me away with the words of a love song_

_Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my fathers_  
_They'll know I'm safe with you when they stand under my colors_  
_Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no_  
_Ain't even grey, but they bury their baby_

_The sharp knife of a short life, well_  
_I've had just enough time_

_If I die young, bury me in satin_  
_Lay me down on a bed of roses_  
_Sink me in the river at dawn_  
_Send me away with the words of a love song_

_The sharp knife of a short life, well_  
_I've had just enough time_

_And I'll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom_  
_I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger_  
_I've never known the loving of a man_  
_But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand,_  
_There's a boy here in town, says he'll love me forever,_  
_Who would have thought forever could be severed by_

_The sharp knife of a short life, well,_  
_I've had just enough time_

_So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls_  
_What I never did is done_

_A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar_  
_They're worth so much more after I'm a goner_  
_And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singing_  
_Funny when you're dead how people start listening_

_If I die young, bury me in satin_  
_Lay me down on a bed of roses_  
_Sink me in the river at dawn_  
_Send me away with the words of a love song_

_The ballad of a dove_  
_Go with peace and love_  
_Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket_  
_Save 'em for a time when you're really gonna need 'em_

_The sharp knife of a short life, well_  
_I've had just enough time_

_So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls"_

As the song finished, Rachel opened her eyes and smiled a soft, sad smile. "So I hope, whoever you are out there, that you enjoyed this. The last performance of Rachel Berry." Quinn watched as the tears rolled down Rachel's face, knowing her own face matched. Her heart was breaking. Rachel's was already broken. "Goodbye."

* * *

"Last Resort" by Papa Roach as covered by Lily Kerbey  
"If I Die Young" by The Band Perry


	2. Chapter 2: Circling

The video came to a stop and Quinn sat there, staring at her screen, too stunned to do more than wipe at her eyes. This wasn't possible. No one loved life more than Rachel Berry. She was obsessive about life. She had dreams. She was going to be a Broadway star. She loved… everything. This had to be some kind of joke. Some kind of prank or… something. Right? Just another example of Rachel Berry being super overdramatic yet again. Yet Quinn couldn't get the memory of Rachel saying goodbye to leave her alone. That one word… so simple and so permanent.

Quinn rose from her desk chair, snatching at the keys she'd left laying there since getting home the afternoon before. She wasn't planning on needing them tonight, not with Sam driving them to Puck's "First Day of Christmas Break" party. Puck's parties were legendary for being what Santana referred to as "a drunken mess that's half drunk hookups and half drunk meltdowns". Quinn had been so glad she was going to that rather than… "Oh, God."

She ripped open the door and flew down the steps, shouting at her mom. "Hey, I gotta go! Something's come up! Tell Sam not to worry!" Quinn for a brief moment saw her mom look up from the couch in surprise, but Quinn was already out the door before she could respond.

She started the car, speeding out the driveway with barely a glance to check for oncoming traffic. As Quinn sped away from her house, she thought she passed a confused looking Sam in his truck, but it could have just been her imagination. Even if it was him, she was sure her mom would tell him what she'd said. No, it wasn't the best message to leave, but it would have to do.

_God, how could I be so stupid_, Quinn thought as she sped down the road towards Rachel's house. _How could I not even think about…? I mean, it's not like we're friends or anything, not really, but still._ Tonight was Puck's party, but it wasn't the only party she'd been invited to that night.

Right after winning Sectionals, Rachel had given all the girls in the Glee Club an invitation. It was of course overly girly with its pink envelope and pink bows and pink scented paper that had somehow smelled like birthday cake. Quinn had stuck it in the back of her locker, and for an entire week, whenever she opened it, she'd had an intense post-traumatic pregnancy craving for cake.

She'd still forgotten, though. Somehow, even with a weeklong cake scented reminder, Quinn had still forgotten about the diva's birthday. Pushed it into the back of her mind because it wasn't important. She wanted to think that surely, _surely_, one of the other girls from Glee had gone. Mercedes, maybe. Or Tina. Remembering Rachel's devastated look on the video, though, she knew it wasn't true. Everyone would be at Puck's party soon. Every single person that Rachel Berry thought should be her friend by now, after a year and a half of getting to know each other… all those people had abandoned her on her birthday.

The road was getting blurry, or at least Quinn thought that was the case until she brushed away a couple of tears trying to fall.

Pulling into Rachel's driveway a scant twenty minutes after leaving her own, the house stared down at her ominously. It was smaller than Quinn's own home, but, then again, most of the houses in Lima were. The Berry residence was a simple two story with a basement, and Quinn knew from past experience that Rachel's room was the second window on the right. The memory of the only other time she'd driven there hit Quinn like a hammer, stealing her breath as she got out of her car.

It had been freshman year, near the end of the school year. All the Cheerios had been picking on Rachel on Quinn's orders. She'd also gotten the football team involved by slushee-ing Rachel on a biweekly basis. Rachel had been threatening to go to Coach Sylvester, Coach Tanaka, Principal Figgins, the school board… basically anyone she could to get them in trouble for picking on her. So Quinn had decided to stop the little Jewish girl before that could happen.

She'd been with Santana who had "borrowed" her older brother's truck. Neither of them had a license, but Santana said that since she'd been the one to get the car, Quinn had to drive. They'd stopped a couple of houses over from the Berrys', not wanting to tip anyone in the house off. They had then brought the ladder from the back of the truck to her window, where Quinn had climbed up, peeking over the windowsill periodically. Eventually, some completely inappropriate pictures of Rachel were taken before Quinn and Santana left again.

Rachel had found a copy of one in her locker the next day that showed her lying down on her bed, topless, with a hand in her panties. The note attached said "Never threaten a Cheerio!". Quinn had watched the girl from her own locker, first the shock as she looked around for whoever might have done it, then the embarrassment and shame of being caught like that. She was about to go off crying before one of the football players walked by and slusheed her, driving the point home.

Rachel never told anyone.

Now Quinn was here trying to… what? Save her? Most of the bad things that had happened to Rachel for the first year and a half of her high school life had been because of Quinn. She'd be lucky if the girl even came to the door for her, much less listened to her. What could she say anyway?

_It doesn't matter_, Quinn thought as she closed her car door and walked towards the door of the house. _It doesn't matter what happened in the past. I can't let her do this. I can't._

Quinn pressed the doorbell and heard some melody echo throughout the house. Of course the doorbell would be musical. Knowing Rachel, the whole house would be musical. Rachel overflowed with music. She was an amazing singer, but it was more than that. Quinn would catch her humming in the classes they shared during a test, or would hear her singing softly to herself while they changed into costumes for Glee. It was like she couldn't _not_ be musical. The girl loved music… or, at least, she had until recently. Ever since not getting to sing at Sectionals, Quinn couldn't remember hearing the diva sing anything. Nothing until the video tonight, anyway.

Quinn hit the doorbell again, harder, as if that would make the girl come any faster. Again no one answered, so she hit the doorbell a third time, a fourth. A fifth. She started knocking after that, loud, with the base of her fist beating against the door. "Rachel!" she called out into the night, looking up at the lit window. "RACHEL!"

As Quinn's hand dove into her bag to retrieve her cell phone, a plan to call 911 already being set in motioned, the door swung open. Rachel stood there, a bottle in her hand, staring up at the frantic blonde. "What the hell, Quinn!" she slurred slightly, grasping the edge of the doorway for balance. "What are you doing here?"

"I just…" Quinn started, suddenly ill at ease, doubts coming into her head. What if Rachel was just saying goodbye to her MySpace account? What if this was all a big misunderstanding? What if Quinn was being the over reactive worrisome, meddlesome bitch she'd always accused Rachel of being? "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Rachel studied her for a long moment, lost in thought. "I suppose it does have a certain ironic… ness to it." She turned away from Quinn and the door and walked back inside, and Quinn had no option but to follow her, shutting the door. "Ironicity? Ironicalness? Ironic… ish… ness? That you'd be here, I mean."

Quinn followed her through the living room and into the kitchen where Rachel resumed sitting at the bar. There was a glass and a bag of ice sitting there, along with a crumpled dishrag. Sitting on the dishrag was a large kitchen knife, triangular blade gleaming, looking like something the victim in a horror movie would pick up.

"Rachel," Quinn said, and the brunette turned hazy brown eyes towards her. "Why… um… why are you drinking by yourself here on a Saturday night? Where are your dads? Where are the Glee girls? Wasn't tonight the birthday… sleepover… thing?"

While Quinn talked, Rachel poured another drink into the glass, and Quinn noted that she was drinking some kind of red vodka. She put the bottle down, slipped a couple of ice cubes in the glass, then picked it up with one hand while picking up the knife in the other.

"Look around, silly Quinnie," Rachel said with a smile that made Quinn nervous, spreading her arms. "I'm surrounded by everyone that loves me. Let's list them off: dads…? Nope. One's busy partying, the other's busy working. Mom…? Replaced me with a newer, better model. Boyfriend…? Ex. Friends from Glee…? They got a better offer tonight. Hell, the only person that bothered to show up was you, silly Quinnie." Rachel took a sip of the drink, grimaced, and shivered all over. "Ew." She paused to consider Quinn again. "Why are you even here, Quinn? Don't you have a perfect party to go to with your perfect boyfriend to celebrate your perfect life?"

Quinn started circling around the island in the center of the kitchen towards Rachel. If she could only get the knife away from her, maybe she could hold her down until she could call someone to help her. Rachel was wary of her, though, and slipped down from her barstool, keeping the island between them.

"You think I have a perfect life?" Quinn asked, doing her best to keep her voice calm and cool while continuing to try and circle slowly towards Rachel. "Maybe you forgot about last year when I got pregnant and kicked out by my parents. Or how I was bounced around from Finn's to Puck's to Mercedes' because no one wanted me. We're not so different, you and I."

"We are _nothing_ alike! I haven't forgotten last year, Quinnie" Rachel said, doing another sip, grimace, shiver. "Nor have I forgotten how you got it all back just because you're pretty and blonde and evil. How you 'convinced' Sue to put you back on the Cheerios. How you ratted out your best friend to get your head bitch captain spot back. How Ken and Barbie got to sing at Sectionals because Finn and I threw the duets competition to make Sam feel wanted in the Glee Club. How yours and Puck's little _bastard_ was the daughter my mom wanted more than the daughter she had. You cheated on your boyfriend, got knocked up, got kicked out, and got it all back within… what? A year? I've been picked on and bullied my ENTIRE LIFE! So please… PLEASE tell me how we're alike again."

"Rachel, I know that—"

"Stop calling me that!" Rachel screamed at her. "I've been _Berry_ for the last two and a half years at this school because of you and the Cheerios. You don't get to come in here and start calling me Rachel like we're suddenly friends now."

Quinn was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Really? REALLY?!" Rachel yelled across the island as they continued to circle it. "Well isn't that a fucking first?! Quinn Fabray didn't mean to upset me. After a year and a half of torturing me, she suddenly doesn't want to upset me." There was a tense silence for a minute as she stared at Quinn, daring her to say something else, but Quinn had nothing to say. "So I ask again, Quinnie, why are you here?"

Quinn finally stopped circling her and looked down at the floor, gathering the courage to say what she really didn't want to. She thought… well, she hoped… unrealistically, that if she could keep Rachel talking, maybe she wouldn't do anything. Maybe it would all be forgotten and they could talk about it or cry about it or something. Come to terms with everything. But Rachel was more upset that Quinn had ever seen her, and she was cursing more than she'd ever known her to, and Quinn could only tell the truth and pray everything worked out.

"I saw your video tonight, Ra— Berry," Quinn said softly. "The one you posted on MySpace."

Rachel faltered, and the anger drained from her face. "Oh." She glanced down to the knife in one hand, to the glass in the other. She took another long sip, emptying the glass, then grimaced and shivered again. She set the empty glass on the island, leaving her holding only the knife. "Well."

"I don't know what you mean to do, Ra— Berry, but I don't think you should," Quinn said, looking the girl directly in the eyes. "I know you must be going through a lot, with your parents and Finn and everything, but all that's temporary." Tears started welling up in Quinn's eyes as she watched Rachel looking from Quinn to the knife. "You're going to be a huge Broadway star someday, remember?" The tears were slipping down Quinn's cheeks now.

"Quinnie, Quinnie, don't cry," Rachel said softly. "Don't you understand? You were right. You were always right. I am worthless. I finally see that now. That's why no one wants me. Why no one loves me. It's because no one _can_ love me. You can't love worthless things, Quinn. No matter how talented I was, how much I wanted things, I was never going to get them. Some of us don't get to win."

"No, Rachel, you're wrong," Quinn said, moving towards her again, quicker now. Rachel moved around at the same pace, still keeping the island between them. "You're so wrong. You're destined to get out of here and go on to bigger and better things. Much better. But you can't do that if you're… if you do this. It's… it's a sin. Like, the worst one. You'll… you'll go to hell, Rachel."

"Oh, Quinn…" Rachel said, sorrow coating her voice. She'd stopped her movement which caused Quinn to stop and just stare at her. "I'm already here."

Suddenly, Rachel turned around and took off running. Quinn was so shocked for a second that she could only stare at her retreating form. She quickly shook her head and followed after her and watched too late as Rachel rushed into another room, locking the door behind her.

Quinn slammed into the door. "Rachel!" She banged on the door, sobbing now. "Rachel, please! Please don't do this, please!" She didn't respond. "RACHEL?" Nothing. "RACHEL!"

Quinn closed her eyes, listening intently for anything on the other side of the door. She heard nothing for a long moment as she prayed that God would keep Rachel safe. Then, out of nowhere, she heard Rachel whimper. There was silence for a moment followed by another whimper, then silence again.


	3. Chapter 3: Phone Calls

**Author's Note: I am amazed by and thankful for the people that have jumped onto this story. Thank you. And my heart goes out to anyone currently going through or who has gone through anything like this.**

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_Oh my God, she's dead!_ Quinn listened at the bathroom door, though she had no idea what she was listening for. Over the sound of her own thundering heartbeat, she heard Rachel's muffled whimpering. Panic set in, gripping her heart and squeezing as she stood there. _She's dying! Rachel is going to die, and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't… I can't… Oh, God, she's dying in there and I don't know what…_

_Can the hysterics, missy_, Quinn thought, suddenly bombarded by her inner Sue Sylvester. _Don't want to hear it, don't want to see it. That girl in there needs you, and she only dies if you let her die. Are you going to be a quitter and give up on her? Because I am damn sure she wouldn't give up on you_.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Quinn ran to the kitchen and started yanking open cabinet drawers. Junk drawer, no. Spatulas and big spoons, no. Straws and take out menus, no. Finally finding the silverware drawer, Quinn yanked out a handful of butter knives and ran back to the locked bathroom door.

Thank God for Frannie and that damned house, Quinn thought as she kneeled down in front of the door handle. Growing up in the Fabray house had very few upsides over the years, but one of the great things about it was the doors. It seemed every door in the house was an old fashioned oaken monstrosity, and each one had its own key to it.

When asked about it, her father had once told her that Alexander Fabray, his great-grandfather who'd had the house built, had been a distrustful old man. Afraid of being robbed, he'd had the house designed so that most of the rooms were a trail of doors to the bedrooms. He then had the doors specially made and keyed so that he could lock up the place at night. The doors were too heavy and reinforced to break down, so anyone attempting to rob him would have to pick each lock individually before moving on to the next room.

Growing up, Frannie had figured out a way to take a series of butter knives and wedge them in the spaces of the doors where the house had settled over the years. By prying the door away from the door frame slowly, she could then maneuver another in between to push the lock back. After getting locked out of her room for a third time one night, Frannie had shown Quinn how to do it. Since, Quinn had become skilled at opening all kinds of locks with different handy tools. She'd figured out how to break into lockers, cars, and pretty much anything else with a lock. Thankfully this door wasn't nearly as complicated as the ones in her own house, and by the third knife she was able to pop the lock back and open the door.

Standing, Quinn pushed open the door to find Rachel shivering, lying in the bathtub with shower curtain thrown open. She looked up at her with frightened, panicked eyes, hands clutched near her chest. Blood was marring the white dress she wore as it poured from her wrists, but Quinn couldn't tell how bad it was yet.

_There's so much blood_, was Quinn's first thought as she looked down at her in stunned silence. _How can someone so little have so much blood?_ Her heart broke for the girl lying there yet again. How could anyone feel that this was their only option? She didn't understand how unbearably happy, exuberant Rachel Berry had come this far. It didn't make any—

_Q! MOVE!_, her inner Sue yelled at her again. She rushed to the bathtub and knelt down beside Rachel, reaching out for one of her hands. The bleeding girl only pulled her hands tighter away from Quinn, though. Rachel was crying and afraid, and she looked at Quinn like she didn't know what to do.

"Rachel, sweetie," Quinn said, using her most calming and reassuring voice on the frightened girl. "I have to see how bad it is."

"It hurts," Rachel whimpered pitifully. "I didn't… I didn't think it would hurt so much."

"Shhh… It's okay, sweetie. It's okay," Quinn soothed out. "We're going to get you some help, and everything's going to be okay." She reached out for Rachel's hands again, but the smaller girl wouldn't let her.

"No," Rachel said, trying to slide away from Quinn in the small tub. She was too weak, and the tub was too small, but she tried anyway. "It'll only hurt for a little bit. Then it'll… it'll all be over."

"Rachel," Quinn said, trying not to be impatient with her, but knowing she needed to slow the bleeding as much as possible. The longer she waited, the less likely that… _No. Don't even think like that._ "You have to let me see—"

"Nooo…" Rachel whined, pulling back. "Just… just let me go. It'll all be okay, Quinn. Really. Everyone will be better off."

"Rachel—" Quinn didn't want to hurt her, but she had to help her. She _had_ to.

"No. I don't want to…"

"Rachel, sweetie—"

"No, Quinn, just go away. Please?"

"Rachel, you have to—"

"No."

"Rachel, we don't have time for—"

"No!"

Without warning, Quinn reached out and slapped the girl in the bathtub, sound echoing off the walls. Rachel looked up at her with wide eyes, wanting to clutch her face but in too much pain to do so. "Goddamn it, Rachel! Stop!" She gave a pathetic whimper, then turned away from Quinn and started sobbing in the bathtub, but at least she wasn't fighting anymore.

Quinn felt horrible, but tried not to think too much about it. It was just something else she could add to the long list of horrible things she'd done to Rachel Berry.

Pulling her hands away from her chest, Quinn was finally able to see the damage Rachel had done to herself and— _Oh God, don't throw up. _The girl's left wrist was bleeding profusely and it looked like she had sliced through something important and… God, she couldn't look at that anymore. Her right wrist didn't look nearly as bad by comparison, but it was still bleeding far too much.

Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn noted the knife that Rachel had used. She picked it up and tossed it into the farthest corner, because as soon as she had seen it, she couldn't help but notice how there had been blood and… bits… of… _Please, God, don't let me pass out. I have to help her_.

Reaching to her left, she grabbed the towel off the rack and wrapped it tight around Rachel's left arm. If all those action movies she'd sat through with Puck were true, Quinn knew she needed to keep pressure on the wound and hold it above the heart. She looked around the bathroom for something else for the other arm, then cursed the Berrys' fucking immaculate bathroom. The towel had been the only one. The hand towel was too small. There wasn't even a damn hamper of dirty clothes to use. Cursing again, Quinn shrugged off her sweater and tied it securely around Rachel's right wrist.

"Rachel," she said, but the girl wouldn't look at her. Quinn grabbed her chin gently and turned her face towards her until their eyes met. They looked so dull and lifeless and so unlike Rachel Berry eyes. "Rachel, sweetie, I need you to hold your arms up above your head." To help, she took the towel and sweater in hand and pulled them upwards, extending Rachel's arms above her head. "You have to stay like this as long as you can. I'll be right back."

"You're leaving?" Rachel asked weakly, slurring a little. Oh God, she was running out of time.

"No, sweetie, not leaving," Quinn said, reassuringly, glad Rachel was still keeping her arms up without Quinn's help. "Just have to go make a phone call. Everything's going to be okay."

"Okay," Rachel said. As Quinn was going towards the door, she heard Rachel call out to her. "Quinn. In case I don't… I don't… I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Quinn was out the door and started running, throwing open the front door as she got to it, and bounding down the steps. Why'd she have to leave her bag in her car? It felt like every second mattered right now. She skidded at her car door and yanked it open, glancing back at the house. She didn't want to leave Rachel alone, just in case she didn't… she didn't… "Not the time," she muttered to herself, pulling her purse from the passenger seat and reaching in for her cell phone. With shaking hands she slid the unlock button and managed to dial 911.

"911, what is the location of your emergency?" the dispatcher asked as Quinn rushed back inside. Rachel was still sitting in the bath tub crying. Her eyes were closed and her arms were down on her chest again.

"1460 Plymouth Street, Lima, Ohio," Quinn said. Rachel looked up as Quinn reentered the bathroom.

"Okay, and what is the nature of your emergency?"

"Um, my friend, she's bleeding. A lot. From her… her wrists." Quinn walked over and tugged on the towel and sweater, getting Rachel to raise her hands again. Thankfully, Rachel complied, but sleepily. Quinn stood there hugging them to her chest to keep them up for her.

"From her wrists? Did she cut herself? On purpose?"

"Um…" Quinn bit her bottom lip, hesitantly. "…yes."

"Okay, and how old is your friend?"

"Seventeen."

"Okay, I'm going to go ahead and send out the paramedics, but I need to ask you some questions, okay?"

"Okay." Quinn went over everything that had happened and that she had noticed since she'd gotten there. Rachel being drunk, the knife, the towel and sweater around her wrists, and how she was holding them up for her. How the towel was turning red much too fast and how Rachel was acting drowsy. How she was so pale. The dispatcher kept her on the line through the few minutes until she heard the sirens, and she thanked her repeatedly, doing her best to keep it together.

Quinn gently set Rachel's arms down, gave her a worried glance, then rushed to the door to meet the paramedics and guide them into the bathroom. They followed her with a stretcher and loaded a now unconscious Rachel onto it, radioing in something to the hospital. One of them asked if she was coming, but she shook her head, saying she needed to make some phone calls. They were gone just a few minutes after they had gotten there, and Quinn stood on the front porch, watching the sirens blaring into the night until they were gone.

As she walked back into the Berry house and closed the door, everything suddenly hit Quinn and she crumpled to the carpet, a choked sob escaping her lips. She had no idea how long she sat there crying, arms circling her knees. She knew it was so long that her butt started to hurt and her lungs were sore. A couple of times she tried to get up and get back to reacting, but that first glimpse of Rachel lying there when she'd come back with her phone would resurface and she'd break down again. In that split second before she'd heard Quinn returning and looked up, it really did look like she was dead. She couldn't be dead. _Please, God, don't let her be dead._

After a while, Quinn finally got up, drying her eyes on her sleeve. She went and washed her hands in the kitchen, unable to go back into the bathroom where Rachel had been. She then took some paper towels and cleaned the blood off of her phone, and then washed her hands again.

Going through the living room and up the stairs, she saw a giant cardboard gold star on a door that said "Rachel". Of course her bedroom would be a dressing room. Quinn smiled at that, but it fell when she thought about where the girl was now. Rachel should have been surrounded by her friends on her birthday, not at the hospital. It wasn't fair. How could everyone have missed it? How could Quinn have not cared enough to see how much she must have been hurting?

Opening the door, Quinn took in the room with a smile. She'd seen it in every one of Rachel's videos posted on MySpace, but she'd never noticed how happy it was. How cozy and safe it made her feel. It was like everything good about Rachel's personality had expanded into every corner of the place. She loved Rachel's room. The bright colors of the walls, the lamps, the four poster bed. The playbills and posters on the walls. The shelves full of sheet music. The camera on the tripod. The same camera that had shot the video tonight. And suddenly, she felt like an intruder.

She walked over to Rachel's closet and opened it, flipping through her clothes until she found a suitable top. Hers was now covered in Rachel's blood, and she didn't want to have to answer any questions if she got stopped or something.

Quickly shedding her own top, she stood there for a second, looking at herself in the mirror, clad only in bra and jeans. Her eyes were puffy, and she was pale. She shivered a little in the coolness of the room, and glanced over to the window to see if it was open. It was the same window through which she'd looked in at Rachel.

Quinn felt ashamed of what she'd done, of who she'd been. Had she driven her to this? Was it her fault? She'd tortured the girl for a year and a half and for what? To make her father proud? It was no secret that Russell Fabray hated the Berry family. Why had she ever let that bigot's hatred influence her? It wasn't right. Rachel had done nothing to her to prompt Quinn's hatred besides be herself. Why couldn't Quinn have been herself, too? Was Rachel stronger than Quinn? A better person? Is that why Russell hated the Berrys? For being open and honest and free, despite everyone in this town? Quinn didn't hate Rachel. She hated herself.

She slipped on the borrowed top, thankful that Rachel's sweaters were usually thick enough to take a direct hit from a slushee. Since her sweater was gone and she'd been in such a hurry to leave when she saw the video, this was all she'd have against the cold December night.

Quinn reached down to her phone she'd set on the bed and glanced at the time. 8:34pm. Where was Rachel's father? She thought he would've been home by now. Unlocking the phone again, she called her mom.

"Quinnie, where are you sweetie? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's…. well, it's not fine, but…" How could she even explain everything that had just happened? "I'm at Rachel Berry's house. She's been hurt, and they've taken her to the hospital. Is Sam there?"

"Yeah, honey, he's here, but—"

"Okay, tell him to just go ahead and go home," Quinn said, interrupting her mother. She couldn't handle an interrogation right now. "I'm not going to be able to go to the party tonight. Tell him not to tell anyone about Rachel. And mother, please don't tell anyone, either. I'm going to the hospital to see how she is. I'll call you later."

"Quinnie, I don't think—"

"Love you, mom," Quinn said, then disconnected the call and cut her phone off. Looking over at Rachel's desk, she started shuffling papers around until she found Rachel's own phone. The case was pink and bedazzled. On the back was a large glittering star made of sequins. It was adorable how much it screamed Rachel Berry.

Quinn unlocked the phone and hit the contacts button, scrolling through them. She had every member of the Glee Club, even including Mr. Schuester and Matt who had transferred at the end of last year. She also had one listing for Dad and another listing for Daddy. …And that was it. Sure, she had various takeout places and dance academies and singing instructors, but when it came to actual friends, it looked like she didn't really have any. Just her fathers and Glee. And they had all let her down, Quinn included.

She was about to press the button for "Dad", but decided against it. She didn't know where either of the Mr. Berrys might be, and she wanted to make sure she was at the hospital when they got there. Instead, Quinn pocketed the phone and walked out of Rachel's room and down the stairs. She grabbed her purse from the couch, not remembering at what point it had made it there. She headed out the door, closed it, and then turned to look at it. She contemplated for a second or two going back up to Rachel's room and getting her keys, but decided against it. Instead she just opened it back up, flipped the bottom lock, and then closed it again. There just wasn't time for everything.

Quinn hopped in her car, started it, and sped away from the Berry house. She sped through the dark, praying she wouldn't get pulled over for speeding… or that stop sign she just ran. Damn, it! Thankfully, no one was there. She was able to catch most of the lights on the way to the hospital, and once it was actually in view she pulled Rachel's phone back out of her pocket and dialed Rachel's "Daddy".

He answered on the fourth ring. "Hey, Rachel, baby. How goes the slumber party?" he asked, though he sounded preoccupied. He had a deep voice that could have been scary if it hadn't been laced with such kindness.

"Mr. Berry," Quinn said nervously. "This is Quinn Fabray. I'm umm… a _friend_… of Rachel's. There's been an… an incident. Rachel's in the hospital. You should get here immediately."

"Oh God," the man said breathlessly, everything in the background stopping. "What happened? Is it serious? Is my baby okay?"

"She's… She kind of… uh…" Quinn sighed. "She's hurt. It's… it's serious, Mr. Berry. She was hurt pretty bad when they took her. I'm just getting here to the hospital myself, so I don't have anything else to tell you." She drove through the parking garage, found a spot, and hopped out. _Keys, purse, phone_… She pressed the lock button on her car and raced towards the elevator. It was a second before she realized Mr. Berry hadn't responded. "Mr. Berry? Are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm still here," he said wetly. "I just… Okay. Quinn, was it? I'll meet you there." She heard movement in the background and guessed he was leaving wherever he worked. Meanwhile the elevator was being ridiculously slow, so Quinn ignored it and went for the stairs.

"Mr. Berry, umm…." Quinn started. She knew Rachel's dads were getting divorced, but… "Should I call the other Mr. Berry, or…?"

"No, no," he said, more confidently this time. "I will. You just wait for us there in the ER. I'll see you in a bit, okay?"

"Okay," Quinn said, hitting the ground floor and throwing the door open to the cool of the outside air again. She was sweating in Rachel's silly animal sweater. "I'll see you then. Um… bye."

Quinn raced to the ER, waiting impatiently for the half second it took for the automatic doors to open. Once through, she rushed the ER desk where an older black woman sat behind it, reading something. "Rachel Berry!" Quinn panted out, yelling at and startling the nurse. The nurse just looked at her confused before Quinn went on. "I'm looking for Rachel Berry. She was brought in here earlier tonight. On an ambulance. She's short, brunette, Jewish. She had cuts on her… on her wrists." She added the last part in a whisper, not knowing whether that should be something she should share.

"Oh!" the nurse said, comprehension dawning on her. "Are you family or…?"

"I'm her sister," Quinn lied. When the woman looked at her skeptically, Quinn added, "Adopted sister."

"Oh, well…" the nurse said, tapping at the computer in front of her. "She's in surgery right now."

"Surgery?" Quinn asked. "What kind of surgery? What's going on? Is she still… still…" _Alive_. The word wouldn't come out, and Quinn was mad at herself for being so weak.

"The doctors are working on her now, sweetie," the nurse said, giving her an encouraging smile. "I'm sure she'll be fine."

"Okay," Quinn said, finally letting herself believe that. This woman was a nurse, and an adult, and she had to know better about people pulling through something like this. Right? "Thank you." She started to walk away, but turned back to the nurse. "But… but you'll let me know if anything happens, right?"

"Of course, sweetie."

Quinn walked to the middle of the ER's waiting room and sat down, able to keep an eye on the automatic doors she had come through as well as the swinging doors to the rest of the hospital. She pulled out Rachel's phone and stared at it. 8:57pm. Now it was just a waiting game to see who would come to her first, the doctors or the Berrys.

A short, balding Jewish man with glasses rushed through the automatic doors seven minutes later and went straight to the nurse's desk. "I'm Rachel Berry's father," Quinn heard him say in a panicked voice to the nurse there, much the same as Quinn had done. She suddenly wondered how often ER nurses got yelled at. "My husband told me there's been some kind of accident. Is she okay? Can I see her?"

Quinn heard the nurse relay the information that she'd told her. She also added that his other daughter was already here, and motioned towards Quinn. This Mr. Berry looked confused and turned towards Quinn who was already walking up. She grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him away from the nurse.

"Other daughter?" he asked, clearly confused and panicked. "What's she talking about? Who are you? Where's Rachel? Is she okay? What happened to her?"

"Mr. Berry, I'm Quinn, and I'm—"

"Russell Fabray's daughter," he finished, realization hardening his eyes. "You're the girl that's been bullying my daughter for the past few years. Did you have something to do with this? Did you do something to her?"

"What? No, I… I didn't do this to her, I swear," Quinn said, taking a step backwards. This was what she was afraid of. What she'd been asking herself all night. Did she do this? "I wouldn't do something like this. I've… I've done some bad things to Rachel in the past, I know. I've been horrible to her. I've tortured her, made her life a living hell, and maybe…" a tear trickled down her cheek, and she hurriedly wiped it away… "maybe I helped do this to her. I helped bring her down to this, but I was a stupid kid and I know that's not an excuse, but, I swear, if I had known she would…" Quinn was full on crying again now as Mr. Berry looked on. "I tried to stop her, I swear." She was suddenly pleading with him. "I tried… I tried, but she… she locked the door, and…" And she couldn't talk anymore.

Quinn just stood there in front of him, face in her hands and crying. She hated herself. For this, for being weak, for everything she'd done to Rachel. For her family, for the people she had called friends, for herself. It shouldn't have been happy smiling beautiful Rachel that had done this. It should have been her. "I'm sorry. I tried…"

Arms encircled Quinn and she looked up to see it was Mr. Berry holding her. He was crying along with her. He led them back towards the seats Quinn had come from and sat her down. Behind him, she saw a tall black man come in, looking around the ER waiting room. That had to be the other Mr. Berry. He noticed the two of them and came over. The white Mr. Berry turned and saw him coming over, and a strange look passed over his face. He pulled off his glasses and wiped his eyes. Quinn wiped her eyes on the sleeve of Rachel's borrowed sweater.

Quinn stood as he reached them. "Mr. Berry?" Quinn asked as he approached. "We spoke on the phone. I'm Quinn Fabray." The two misters Berry exchanged a look, and she knew he had to be thinking the same things that the other had just been thinking.

"Please, Quinn," he said. "Call me Leroy. All the 'Mr. Berry's can get confusing."

"Hiram," the other Mr. Berry said simply, waving a hand at himself. "Now, Quinn, please tell us what happened. Start from the beginning."

She did, and by the end, all three were crying again and blaming themselves for Rachel.


	4. Chapter 4: Waking Up Alive

She woke up. That was the first thing Rachel realized was wrong. The last thing she remembered was dying. Or, at least, she thought she'd been dying. She'd been bleeding enough to be dying. She should have died. That was her goal, and Rachel Berry always reaches her goals. But that wasn't true, was it? That unstoppable, tenacious Rachel Berry was just an act. A front. A mask. A face for the world to see so they couldn't see how broken she really was on the inside. All she'd wanted to do was match the outside with the in. She'd been dead on the inside, so naturally she should be dead on the outside. Wasn't that how it worked? But she couldn't even get that right. Like her family and her friends and her love life, this too had been a failure. So what now?

Rachel opened her eyes and looked around the room. Her first thoughts were that it was too white. Too clean. Too sterile. Nothing like her own bedroom at home, bursting with color and charm and life. Her bedroom had once been a safe place she'd filled with all the things that made her happy. Like everything else, though, that too had been ripped away from her, this time with a picture left in her locker. A picture of herself in a private moment. A moment caused by a Cheerio, ruined by a Cheerio.

Looking to her left, Rachel noticed her Daddy asleep in a chair. Tall, strong, proud Leroy Berry. She loved him with all her heart. In the more rational light of day, it made her sad to think what this must be causing him. God, she was so stupid for doing this to him. To both her dads.

What the hell was she thinking? She really was worthless. She couldn't even do this one simple thing right. People die every day. It should have been easy. Yet here she was, too incompetent to even do this one thing right. More than feeling stupid, she felt embarrassed and… confused. Why was she still here? Why couldn't it have worked? If it would have worked, she wouldn't be feeling any of these emotions right now. Rachel knew she should be happy to be alive, but that particular emotion wouldn't come.

Looking over at her Daddy, she noticed her own left arm for the first time. It was wrapped in bandages and had some type of brace on it that kept her hand immobilized. It didn't hurt, which was a nice contrast from last night. It kind of itched a little, but that was about it.

Rachel turned to check out her right arm, which was bandaged but without the brace, and noticed a woman sitting there for the first time. She was pregnant, wearing scrubs, and looked to be about thirty years old. She was also reading a book, "What to Expect When You're Expecting".

"Hello?" Rachel called out weakly, surprised by the sound of her own voice. Maybe it was because she didn't expect to hear it again. Or, maybe it was because, as a singer, she never let it get so scratchy. She had trouble caring either way.

"Hi," the woman said, sticking a finger in the book to mark her place. "How do you feel?"

"Okay, all things considered," Rachel said. "What time is it? How long have I been out?"

"It's…" the woman paused to pull her phone out of her pocket and check the time, "8:04. You had surgery last night, so you've been out maybe… twelve hours?"

"Oh," Rachel said, then stopped. "Surgery? For what?"

"Your wrist," the woman said, nodding towards the brace on Rachel's forearm. "According to your chart, when you cut your wrist, you went too deep and severed the tendon in your forearm. They had to go in and reattach it."

"Oh." Rachel looked over at the brace again, remembering how much that one had hurt. "Does that happen a lot?"

"Sometimes."

Rachel lifter her arm to look at the brace. She couldn't bend or turn her wrist at all. "So I guess you're my suicide watch, then?" Rachel asked, turning back to the pregnant woman.

"Pretty much," she said, opening her book back up and flipping a page.

"Well, if it makes any difference, I don't plan on trying it again," Rachel said.

"That's for the doctors to decide," the woman said with a shrug, eyes staying on her book. "I'm just here to make sure you don't."

Sensing the woman wasn't very interested in talking, or, at least talking to her, Rachel turned away and took stock of the room around her. Television off in the corner. Some kind of food cart in front of the bed. Another chair beside her Daddy. An empty bed behind the two chairs. Bathroom towards the door. Seeing the bathroom caused Rachel to realize she needed to go.

"Am I…" Rachel started to ask, embarrassed at the question. "Am I allowed to use the bathroom, or…?"

"Sure," the nurse said, pulling a bookmark from the back of the book and marking her place. "I'll help you up." The nurse stood and helped Rachel out of bed, putting an arm under Rachel's as she leaned into the nurse. She worried a little about the woman straining too much being pregnant, then wanted to laugh when she realized she cared more about the woman's health than her own. Her legs felt weak, unsteady, and thankfully the nurse let her lean against her as she walked slowly to the bathroom.

Two things occurred to Rachel suddenly as she stood at the toilet. One was that she was basically naked. She wore a thin cotton hospital gown and the panties she'd been wearing the night before and a pair of wooly socks that someone must have put on her feet because she'd never had socks like that. The second and more important thing she realized was that the woman wasn't going to leave her alone in the bathroom.

For what it was worth, Rachel had been honest when she'd said she wasn't planning on trying to… on committing… on doing what she'd done again. She hated being a failure, and trying again would only remind her of how she'd failed. So to her, this whole "suicide watch" thing was just embarrassing and unnecessary. She didn't need to be watched. She was… well, not fine, but at least not in danger. Probably. The woman had no intention of leaving her alone, though, so Rachel did the best she could to pretend she wasn't there and did her business, looking down the entire time.

There was a sudden commotion in her room outside the bathroom door. "Rachel?" she heard her Daddy call out in a sleepy, panicked voice.

"I'm in the bathroom, Daddy," she said.

"Are you… do you need any help?" he asked nervously. "Should I come in?"

"No, I've got plenty of company in here as it is," she said with a huff. She finished on the toilet and stood, going to wash her hands. She looked down at the brace on her arm, though, then looked over at the nurse. "Um… I don't… I don't know how to…"

"Here, let me," the nurse said, wetting some paper towels and wiping Rachel's hands down for her. She then dried them for Rachel, opened the door, and followed her back into the room outside.

Leroy stood there expectantly looking at Rachel, but she couldn't look at him yet. She ducked her head and, with the nurse's help, made her way back to, and into, the bed. Once the blanket was pulled back over her, only then did she look up at her Daddy. He had a clear look of hurt in his eyes, and Rachel knew she was the cause of it. She had always been close with her dads, so for him to see her avoiding eye contact with him had to be upsetting.

"How are you feeling, baby girl?" Leroy asked, taking the seat again that he had been sleeping in.

"Tired," Rachel said honestly, though quietly. "Weak. My wrist is kind of itchy."

"Okay," Leroy said, nodding. "But I meant more emotionally. Do you still feel like…" he paused searching for the words that were so hard for him to say. She watched the concern pass over his face, concern that she had put there. Like the nurse, it was weird to think that she cared more about him that she did herself. "…like you want to hurt yourself?"

Rachel looked away and bit her lip. Not only was she concerned about him more than herself, _he_ was concerned about her more than she was. Where had self-centered Rachel Berry gone? The Rachel Berry that had wanted to be the shining center of the Glee Club? Of the world? Now she couldn't seem to care about herself at all. Only this man in front of her and her Dad, wherever he might be. She didn't want to hurt herself anymore because, looking at her Daddy hurt her too much. He looked saddened by her, and she couldn't take being the cause of that look.

"No, Daddy," Rachel said, turning back towards him but not meeting his eyes. "I just… I was just stupid. I know you're disappointed in me that I'm… that I'm such letdown of a daughter, but I'll try to be better. I just don't want you to—"

Whatever she was going to say was silenced as she was wrapped in Leroy's arms. "Baby girl, you've never been a disappointment to me or your Dad. Don't _ever_ think that. You're a beautiful, wonderful daughter, better than we should ever be able to have. The only, _only_ negative emotion I'm feeling right now for you is concern, baby. We just all want you to get better."

"Daddy," Rachel said, feeling the sting of a tear starting to fall. She closed her eyes as she let herself be comforted by him. "I'm so sorry. There's just… just so much going on, and I didn't know… I didn't know what to do or how to cope, and I just… I fell apart."

They stayed like that for a few minutes until Rachel heard voices and felt new presences in the room. She pulled back from her Daddy slightly and looked behind him to see her Dad carrying a tray of food. He was standing there, looking at the two of them, and tearing up. Beside him stood Quinn Fabray in… _what the hell? Is she wearing one of my sweaters_? Her Dad walked over and joined them, hugging Rachel and Leroy both. They were both crying on her now, clearly glad she was awake and… _alive_, Rachel let herself think the word for the first time. She was alive.

And it was all Quinn's fault.

No, Rachel didn't want to hurt herself anymore, but it wasn't because she was _so glad_ to be alive or anything. It was only because she loved her dads so much that she didn't want to cause them any more pain. That didn't stop her from being angry that her plan, her _final_ plan, hadn't worked. She glared at the intruding blonde cheerleader, but Quinn didn't see it. She was too busy awkwardly looking away from the family moment.

As her dads finally pulled away from her, Rachel asked, "What's _she_ doing here?" Quinn finally met Rachel's eyes and was able to see the anger there. She looked taken aback, like Rachel was going to wake up and graciously thank her for making her live. She hadn't wanted to live. She still didn't want to. She just didn't want to hurt her dads any more.

"She…" Hiram started, looking from Rachel to Quinn and back. "She saved your life, baby. She's been here all night with us to make sure you were okay."

"Well, I am," Rachel said a little too roughly, still staring at Quinn. "She can go now."

"Rachel…," Quinn said, clenching her fists. Either she wanted to punch her, or she wanted to reach out to her, and either way, Rachel wanted her gone. "I'm… I'm sorry."

"For what?" Rachel asked, confused but still angry. "For making me… for saving my life? You don't have to apologize for that." At least not in front of her fathers. She didn't want them to know that she was disappointed to still be alive. She couldn't take them looking at her like that.

"No," Quinn said. "For everything else. For the way I've treated you. For every bad thing I've ever done to you, whether you know about it or not. For being the reason you feel this way." She paused for a breath as Rachel stared at her with wide eyes, shocked to hear Quinn apologizing for anything. Ever. "I'm sorry for being me." With that, Quinn turned and walked out, gently closing the door after her.

* * *

Quinn waited by the elevators, trying not to cry again. God, she was so tired of crying. Was it possible to get dehydrated from crying so much? She hadn't cried this much since she was pregnant and hormonal and generally crazy.

She took the phone from her pocket and checked the time. If she hurried home now, she could still shower and change and go to church with her mother. Quinn knew her mom was probably still upset about Quinn being gone all night. She'd called her after talking to Hiram and Leroy and explained the situation. Judy Fabray had been understanding in a vague way, but there was still a hint of that's-what-she-gets-for-being-a-Berry. Quinn knew from experience that it was hard to get away from her father's way of thinking. Quinn was still trying.

"Quinn," Hiram called out, walking quickly down the hall towards her.

Hiram had been the less accepting of the misters Berry at first, but after explaining everything that had happened, as well as talking all night, bonding over donating blood, and getting breakfast in the cafeteria, he had come around… mostly. Quinn wasn't used to being that open with adults, or anyone for that matter, but Hiram, much like his daughter, had a way of getting what he wanted. She'd told him all about being pregnant and getting kicked out by her parents the year before. He'd told Quinn about being bullied by a teenaged Russell Fabray growing up. She hadn't known that they'd gone to school together. Hiram still seemed reluctant towards her, but he was trying. They were both trying.

"Quinn, she doesn't mean it," Hiram said, placing a hand on her arm as he stepped with her onto the waiting elevator. "She's just confused and upset and—"

"Angry." Before Hiram could object, she added, "She is. I know anger. When I was pregnant, I had all this rage at my situation that I didn't know how to deal with. Thankfully, my friend Mercedes took me away from part of the problem. She let me stay with her and gave me a safe place to deal. I got over it." She shook the memories away. Everything dealing with the baby left her hurting. "That's what Rachel needs right now, I think. To be away from the situation. So I'll go, because I'm part of the problem. It's one less thing she'll have to deal with."

"Quinn…" Hiram started before she cut him off.

"You've got my cell phone number, Mr. Ber- Hiram," she said, smiling at him. "If anything happens, if she gets worse, if you or Leroy or Rachel need _anything_, don't be afraid to call me. I want to help. I just want to make up for… well, for everything."

The elevator opened to the ground floor, and Quinn stepped off, turning to Hiram. She was just going to say goodbye, but Hiram threw his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. "Thank you," he said quickly. "Thank you for… for saving her. For keeping her here."

"She may not want to be right now," Quinn said. "But she will."

Hiram let go of Quinn and stepped back onto the elevator. She watched the doors close with a little wave and wiped a tear from her eye. How could this man, who had every right to hate her for what her father had done, for what she had done to his daughter… how could he be more like a father to her than her own? Damn it. Maybe she wasn't done crying just yet.


	5. Chapter 5: Practicing

The first thing Quinn did when she got home from the hospital was hug her mother. Judy had been getting ready for church when Quinn had come through the door and nearly tackled her with an intense hug. It had surprised both of them. Such shows of emotion had been frowned upon in the Russell Fabray run household, but after… everything, Quinn just couldn't contain herself. She really needed her mom.

Judy started asking her questions about what had happened. Was Quinn okay? Was Rachel? Sometime during her explaining everything, Quinn had broken down again, needing the comfort of her mom. The same she had needed when she was pregnant but, because of her father, wasn't allowed. Judy was patient with her daughter, holding her, not caring that they'd be late for church. After a while, Quinn had blushed and apologized, wiping her eyes. Judy told her never to apologize for that, tapped her on the nose with a smile, then told her to go take a shower and get ready for church if she felt like going.

She did. Quinn loved going to church. It wasn't the same one she had gone to most of her life. No, those people had been too judgmental of her teen pregnancy, of her father's affair, and her parent's subsequent divorce. After Quinn had moved back in with her mother, they had found a nice little nondenominational Christian church where the people hugged her at the door and their smiles were genuine.

Quinn and Judy had sat with Sam, his brother and sister, and his parents. Sam gave her a questioning look, but Quinn just shook her head. During the middle of a service wasn't the time to talk. Not about something like what she had gone through.

During church, Quinn had mostly prayed for Rachel. For her to get better both mentally and physically. For her to not be picked on at school about this. For her to have better friends and people to support and love her. Quinn also prayed for herself, though. She prayed for forgiveness for everything she had done to Rachel. It was the first time she could ever remember doing it.

Quinn had thought if she just stopped being cruel to Rachel then it would be okay. After last night, though, she knew that wasn't the case. Sitting in church with her head bowed and eyes closed, she'd thought if she asked for forgiveness from God, _then_ it would be okay. It wasn't. Rather than feel free from her sins against Rachel, she felt overcome by them. Suffocated. She saw every hurtful word or action against her in a new light and it squeezed at her lungs, her heart. What if it had been her? What if she'd been the victim? How would she feel? What would she do to get away from it? God, it was no wonder Rachel had wanted out so bad.

If Quinn was right, then at least some part of what Rachel had done to herself had been Quinn's fault. If Quinn hadn't torn Rachel down for a year and a half before the school turned on her, too. If Quinn had accepted the offers of friendship that Rachel had given her repeatedly since joining Glee Club. If she had just even made an effort to go to Rachel's birthday party instead of another of Puck's stupid drunken parties. She wished so much to be able to change it. To be able to help Rachel.

Quinn opened her eyes and looked around at the still bowed heads while the preacher continued leading them in prayer. Her heart raced. Was this what a panic attack felt like? An epiphany? A religious experience? She had to help Rachel get better. She _had_ to. It was Quinn's responsibility. _Rachel_ was Quinn's responsibility. Helping Rachel was her penance for the wrongs she'd done to her. But, God, how could she even be there for Rachel? Would Rachel even let her? Why should she?

Though she still had too many unanswered questions, accepting the fact that she had to help Rachel calmed Quinn down considerably. She was able to close her eyes, and continue her prayer renewed. Again Quinn prayed for herself, but it was different this time. She asked for the opportunity and the strength to be there for Rachel. For the strength to stand up for her at school. For the chance to be one of the people that will love and support her. She would help Rachel. She had to.

After church, Quinn said her goodbyes to Sam and his family, promising to call him later. Afterwards, she and her mother went out to eat, Judy noting that Quinn couldn't have eaten much at the hospital besides vending machine or hospital cafeteria food. "And coffee," Quinn added, noting how suddenly tired she was. "Large amounts of coffee." She was barely able to stay awake through lunch, and as soon as they got home, Quinn was napping on the couch.

After what could have only been five minutes later but was really five hours, Judy was tapping Quinn's foot, telling her to go to bed if she was going to sleep all day anyway. Thankful that she still had plenty of Christmas break left, Quinn started up the steps towards her room. Once there, she set her alarm for 6am, cursing Sue Sylvester and her stupid Christmas break Cheerios practices. She checked her phone as she got ready for bed, noting she had 38 new texts, but that was too big a number to even deal with right now so she looked at missed calls instead. Sam had called a few times, but there were thankfully no missed calls from Hiram or Leroy.

Quinn felt bad for not talking to Sam all day, and for standing him up last night, but she couldn't seem to care a whole lot. He was just a boy, even if she was dating him, but boys were like a status symbol. Like a diamond bracelet or a new car. They had fun, but it wasn't anything special. He was just the most appealing football player, and that's the kind of guy the head cheerleader was supposed to date. _It's the same reason Santana dates Puck_, she reasoned. And besides, she had been saving someone's life. He couldn't be mad at that, right?

* * *

"Q!" Santana called her name through the locker room, finally spotting the sleepy shivering blonde changing into her Cheerios uniform and coming over. "Q, did you hear about Berry?"

_Oh, God_, Quinn thought, stomach in freefall. _Oh, God, people have found out. They're going to crucify her. God, I know said I'd stand up for her and all, but… I mean, it's only been like a day and a half. Come on_…

"Yeah, San," Quinn said quietly, shutting her locker. "I know about it. How did you find out?"

"My dad's a doctor at the hospital," Santana said. "I heard it from him first, but I've heard it from like everyone else since then. People won't shut up about Suicidal Suzy. And did you drop off the fucking face of the map yesterday or what? Everyone in Glee tried texting you, and Malibu Ken even said he tried calling. I was beginning to think maybe she took you out before trying to knife herself."

"Shut it, San," Quinn nearly growled out. "Don't talk about Rachel that way."

"Oh, _Rachel_, now, is it?" Santana asked, arching an eyebrow. "And when did you get on a first name basis with Mini-Mouth?"

"Since Saturday night," Quinn said quietly, causing Santana to gape at her.

"Saturday night? But that's when…" Santana took a step forward and whispered. "Quinn, I know we've done some fucked up shit to her because she's fucking annoying as hell, but you didn't… you didn't have anything to do with, like, making her do it? Did you?"

"No!" Quinn said the word too loud, causing some of her other Cheerios to look over. More quietly, she relayed the events of Saturday night to her, watching the Latina's face pale in the fluorescent lights of the locker room. At least this time, she was able to do it without crying, though the memory of Rachel, so helpless, laying there dying…

"Mija, wipe your eyes," Santana whispered softly to her in the voice she usually reserved for Brittany. Quinn reached up and wiped away a tear she hadn't even realized was there, silently cursing again. God, she was so fucking weak! How could she ever try to be strong for Rachel if she couldn't even talk about this shit without tearing up?

"So, yeah, that was my weekend," Quinn said, wanting to make it into a joke but unable to.

"Damn, Q," Santana said. "I don't even… it's just so… wow."

"I know, right. That's why…" Quinn paused, hesitating in telling her best friend her thoughts. Maybe it was stupid, but she felt responsible. She felt she needed to be the one to help Rachel get better. She thought back on the moment in church, and that conviction hit her again. "That's why I'm going to help her get better. I mean, we're at least a little responsible for everything we've done to her. The names, the slushees, the… God, the photo…"

"Wait, wait, wait," Santana said quickly. "First off, I'm glad Berry's alive and all, but I'm not taking any blame for her trying to off herself. That's her own deal. The only person that lets you kill you is you. I personally think it's pretty weak and pathetic, but whatever." Quinn glared at the girl, but she kept talking. "Second, okay, yeah, we've done a lot of shit, I'll admit. Slushees, names, pushing her, mocking her, all that… basically being real bitches. But I'm taking no part in the picture in the locker thing."

"San, you drove us there in your brother's stolen truck!"

"Well, yeah," Santana said like that was nothing. "But I didn't take it or put it in her locker or anything. Hell, you wouldn't even show it to me."

"I didn't show it to anybody," Quinn said, blushing. "It was too… personal. Inappropriate."

"Whatever. I'm just saying, you make Berry your pet project if you want to, but don't try to guilt me into playing along." Santana crossed her arms and stared at the blonde head Cheerio, daring her to try.

"I wouldn't," Quinn said, staring at her. "I just want to know if you've got my back."

Santana stared back for a long tense minute, then sighed. "Yes, oh Captain, my Captain."

"You're such a nerd," Quinn said, smiling and pushing her shoulder. Santana smiled for a second, pushing Quinn back playfully, then straightened up, looking around to make sure no one had seen. She really was nice underneath all that bitch.

They got their bags put away into their lockers and made their way toward the gym, following a few Cheerios who were laughing and talking about something. Brittany met them as they went, bumping playfully into Santana, and pouting when the Latina didn't respond. She was apparently never going to let go of the fact that Brittany was dating Artie.

As they got into the gym, a couple of words of the Cheerios' conversation trailed back, and Quinn heard one of them say, "…yeah, tried to kill herself." Quinn and Santana exchanged wide-eyed looks then glanced at Brittany who seemed oblivious to either the conversation or the situation.

Santana reached out and grabbed hold of Quinn's wrist, giving her an almost imperceptible shake of her head. She was probably right. It wasn't really worth it to get pissed off already, and Quinn could just as easily punish them during practice. Something pulled her forward, though, as she shook off Santana's hand. A need to hear what they were saying, if nothing else, because they surely weren't the only ones talking about Rachel. Better to hear it sooner than later.

"…couldn't believe that someone at this school would actually try it," Quinn heard one of the seniors, Christy Gunderson. "It's a shame, really." _Well, okay, that wasn't so bad_, Quinn thought, breathing a little easier. At least they're not—

"Yeah," Missy, Christy's sister, said. "A shame she didn't get it right. It'd be nice to have this place Berry-free." Christy looked appalled, but the other Cheerio, Meghan, laughed along with Missy's ignorant bray of a laugh.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said, causing the three to turn around and exchanged worried looks. Quinn was in full on head bitch mode, and glaring them down. "Please tell me you're not _actually_ heartless enough to make fun of someone who tried to commit suicide. _Especially_ in listening distance of _her_ friend and _your_ Captain."

"We-we… uh… we didn't realize you were back there, Quinn," Christy said apologetically. "Miss didn't mean anything by it." Elbowing her sister in the ribs, she nodded from Missy to Quinn. "Tell her, Missy."

"Friends?" Missy asked skeptically. "Since when are you and Berry _friends_? God, have you even met her. I have English with her. She's an insufferable, bossy, self-centered diva who acts like she's entitled to have everyone worship her but dresses like she picks from the Good Will's dumpster. I mean, I knew she was crazy, I just didn't realize she was, like, actually a psycho." Missy let out another obnoxious laugh.

Quinn was so angry she could barely think, but it was Santana who responded. "Hold up there, Mr. Ed," Santana said, bringing the laughter to a halt. "I know you and your horse-laughing, buck-toothed, bottom-of-the-pyramid busted ass are not making fun of somebody else. You're barely even a Cheerio. We only, only let you on the squad because your sister's pretty awesome." Missy looked over at Christy who just shrugged. "If it weren't for her, you'd be hit by more Slushees than a 7-11 trashcan. Now show some respect for your betters and shut the hell up."

Everyone looked from Santana, who was smiling and starting to walk away to Missy, who was standing there steaming. "I didn't mean to make fun of her," Missy said snidely at Santana's back, causing the Latina to turn around. "I just meant that I hope she gets a chance to finish the job before she comes back to school. That's really all I want for Christmas, and it'll—"

Santana's eyes had gone wide because, behind Missy, she saw Quinn rushing her. The Cheerios captain rammed her hard in the back with her shoulder, sending her to the floor on her hands and knees. Before Missy could get up, Quinn was on top of her, punching her repeatedly. Christy jumped in and tried pulling her off but got pushed away by Quinn. Meghan then jumped in and hit Quinn. Santana pulled Meghan away, holding her back as Quinn and Missy fought. Brittany just stared, clearly uncomfortable. Somewhere behind them, Becky Jackson was yelling "Coach, coach, coach!"

Missy and Quinn got in a few more punches, hair pulls, and scratches before Sue Sylvester showed up, physically pulling them apart while blowing a whistle in their faces. When it looked like they were going to keep going at it, Santana jumped in and held Quinn back while Christy held Missy.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" Sue yelled, first staring at Quinn then Missy.

"That psycho bitch just attacked me!" Missy screamed, pointing at Quinn. She held a hand up to her bloody nose and glared at her Captain.

"Quinn?" Sue asked, fuming that her Cheerios would ever be caught fighting.

"I…" _Damn it, how do I even explain this?_ "I didn't like what she was saying," Quinn finished lamely.

"You didn't like…?" Sue started quietly, unbelieving. She got louder. "You didn't like what she was saying?! You're supposed to be a leader here, Quinn! You can't attack your Cheerios for talking! I know! I've tried!"

"Yeah, but she was talking about…" Quinn trailed off. She didn't know whether to finish that or not. She'd been okay with standing up for Rachel yesterday in church when it was a vague idea, but here and now in the real world? Sue hated Glee Club, and Rachel Berry _was _Glee Club.

"Rachel," Brittany finished quietly for her, sounding heartbreakingly sad. "She said she hoped Rachel would 'finish the job' before school started back."

"Oh." All the anger drained from Sue's face, and she gazed off into the distance for a moment, thinking. They all looked to Sue to see what she would do or say. Clearly she knew, but Quinn wasn't sure how, though she knew Sue did claim to have 'eyes everywhere'. "Well that changes things."

"Coach?" Missy asked nervously.

Sue seemed to come back into herself as she appraised Missy. "You seem to think suicides are funny. I want you to run them."

Missy gulped. "For how long?"

"Until I get bored," Sue said, looking back across the gym at the other Cheerios watching the interaction. Taking her megaphone from a waiting Becky, Sue put it to her lips and addressed the rest of the Cheerios. "Until further notice, Rachel Berry is off the list. If I hear of one Slushee, one prank, one _anything_, you will be immediately cut. I have a list of girls backlogged and willing to replace every single one of you. Spread this to all of your bungling boyfriends and their football playing friends. Know that anyone messing with Berry will face the wrath of one Sue Sylvester."

Everyone stared at Sue, wondering what had just happened. She had placed a shield around Rachel Berry, the biggest pariah in William McKinley history, for the foreseeable future. Just because she'd tried to kill herself? Quinn couldn't believe it. No one could. Sue Sylvester didn't do nice things like everyone else. She was cruel and horrible… but a winner. That's why she kept her job around children when she clearly hated them. This would be almost as big a story as Rachel herself.

After the six hours of grueling practice were finally over, Quinn stayed behind for a minute, finding herself walking up to Sue. "I just wanted to say thanks, Coach," Quinn said. "For what you did for Rachel. That was… decent."

Sue stared down at her, not speaking. _Damn Sue and her height_, Quinn thought, trying her best to not let her emotions betray her face. Every time Sue looked down at her, it always felt like she was being judged. It felt like Sue knew everything that she was thinking, and it scared her. Quinn was tight with her emotions. She hated the fact that Sue could ruffle her like that with just a stare.

"Is it true you were there when she did it?" Sue asked finally.

Quinn was shocked. How could she possibly know that? "Yes." A pause, then, "How did you know?"

"Eyes. Everywhere. Q." Sue looked off across the now empty gymnasium, seemingly lost in thought. It wasn't often Sue was reflective like this. "We lost Porcelain to bullying already. I won't lose another student, even if it is Barbara. I especially won't have it be because of one of my Cheerios." She turned back to Quinn still standing there and looked at her black eye and split lip, adding, "But you know you can't fight all her battles for her, right?"

"I know."

When Quinn got back to the locker room to change, everyone was gone but Santana consoling a crying Brittany. Quinn rushed over, thinking that Missy must have said something else while Quinn was talking to Sue. "What happened?"

"I-I didn't believe it," Brittany said while Santana wiped the tears from the taller blonde's eyes, their disagreements over Artie clearly forgotten in this time of need. "I heard the other girls talking about Ra-Rachel, but I didn't believe them." She looked up at Quinn. "Not until you went af-after Missy. Rachel really… Rachel really tried to—"

"Shh…" Santana cooed, running fingers through her hair now loose of its ponytail.

"I should have gone," Brittany said tears running down her cheeks. She was pleading with Quinn for understanding. "I said I would- I would go to Ra-Rachel's sleepover, but Artie and San, they said… they said it would be boring, and that I should go to Puck's. They said that she'd have all the other Glee girls there, and I wouldn't be missed. But if… if I had gone…"

"No, Britts," Quinn said, sitting next to Brittany and taking her hand. "This had nothing to do with you, so you can't blame yourself. Rachel is… Rachel's sick, sweetie. And we're going to be there for her, okay? But it's not anybody's fault." Quinn was already questioning the words she was telling Brittany, though, hoping they weren't a lie.

"Do you think it would be okay to go visit her?" Brittany asked, reaching a hand up to wipe her eyes on the sleeve of her Cheerios uniform. "I could take her Mr. Quackers. He always makes me feel better when I'm sick."

"It's not really that kind of sick, Britt-Britt," Santana said, continuing to try and soothe her.

"San's right, Britts," Quinn said, patting her hand. "But I was going to call her dads after practice, so I'll make sure to ask when she might feel up to having some visitors."

"Okay," Brittany said, sniffling. All of a sudden she reached out and grabbed the two girls surrounding her, pulling them in for a tight hug. "I love you guys," she said, sniffing again. "You're my best friends. So don't… don't you two ever try to leave like Rachel."

Quinn checked the time as she got back into the VW Beetle that her dad's money had bought for her. She hated him so much for abandoning her, but she loved this car. She wanted to not hate him. She wanted to nothing him, to forget about his very existence. At times, she felt successful, but since spending the night at the hospital with Hiram and Leroy, she'd been thinking about fathers more. If Rachel, as much as her fathers loved her, still tried to find a way out, why hadn't Quinn? Why hadn't she looked for a way out last year when her life had been so incredibly hard, being bounced around from one house to another, never having a place to call home? It was probably because of the baby. She wasn't just responsible for her own life anymore. She was responsible for someone else's and that kept her grounded. That suddenly gave Quinn a probably stupid idea for helping Rachel, and she smiled a little.

The time was 2:28, by the way. Quinn stomach growled, realizing she hadn't had lunch yet. She hadn't been able to go back to Sue Sylvester's Master Cleanse diet after having the baby. Instead, she had just done her best to eat healthy, exercise as much as possible, and listen to and trust her body. And her body was telling her it was time for lunch.

Quinn left out of the school parking lot and was headed towards Kewpee's when her cell phone rang. She looked down at the display, but it simply said unknown caller. "Hello?" Quinn answered the phone, suddenly nervous. She'd given Hiram and Leroy her number and said call if they needed anything… or if anything went wrong. _God, please don't let something be wrong._

"Hi, Quinn. It's Leroy Berry," he said. "I don't know if you're busy or not, but… uhh…" Quinn heard the worry through the connection.

"Mr. Ber—Leroy," Quinn corrected herself. "Is something wrong? Is Rachel okay?"

"Yeah, she's okay," he said. "Or, as okay as she can be. I think she's just going stir crazy. I was wondering if you would… if you wanted to come visit." There was a pause, and his voice was sad. "She hasn't had any visitors."

"I'm on my way."


	6. Chapter 6: In Private

**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone, really. You guys are so awesome for sticking with this story.**

* * *

Quinn entered the sliding door of Lima Memorial Hospital, took the elevator to the third floor, and walked promptly to room 337 where she knew Rachel lay beyond the closed door. There she stopped, though, suddenly nervous about seeing Rachel again. What could she possibly offer the girl in the way of getting better? Of trying to be friends? She bowed her head and closed her eyes, holding the cross around her neck between two fingers. _God… please help me to stop questioning. I think this is the right thing to do, what you want me to do. Just… please help me to be strong. For Rachel. Amen_.

Quinn knocked quietly at the door, hoping she wouldn't be waking anyone up. Sure, it was almost three in the afternoon, but she knew from personal experience that hospitals had a way of screwing with sleeping schedules.

The door opened, and Leroy stood on the other side. "Quinn," he said, tense smile coloring his voice. "It's so nice to… What happened to you?"

Damn. Her worries about coming had temporarily made her forget about the fight that morning. And with Brittany crying after practice, Quinn hadn't thought to check the mirror in her Cheerios locker when she changed back out of her uniform. She must look like hell.

"Who is it, Daddy?" Rachel asked, though in a monotone voice like she didn't really care about the answer. That voice was so un-Rachel Berry like that it hurt. Rachel's voice had always been full of passion and energy, usually to an annoying degree. Quinn had hated it for most of the time she'd known her, if for no other reason than jealousy. Jealous that Rachel could love and be excited by life that much. Now…? Now it was just heartbreaking to see how far she had fallen. From the look on Leroy's face, it was clear he hated that voice, too.

Leroy stepped back from the door, silently inviting Quinn inside. "Your friend Quinn stopped by to see you, Rachel," he said, looking over at his daughter. He sounded like he was talking to a small child. It would have embarrassed Quinn to be talked to that way, but Rachel didn't seem to care. "Isn't that exciting?"

"She's not my friend," Rachel said dispassionately in that same monotone voice as Quinn entered the room. Everything looked basically the same from the morning before. Rachel's left hand and forearm were still in the brace to keep her tendon from stretching, and her other wrist was still bandaged. There was a different woman in the corner reading a book while keeping an eye on the room. The atmosphere was wrong, though. Stale and gray and so very Un-Rachel. "She's just someone I…" She stumbled over her words, staring at Quinn. "What happened to your face?"

Quinn looked back and forth from Rachel to Leroy, trying to smile though her busted lip protested painfully. "Just a little cheerleading accident this morning. One of the guys was lifting me up, and I slipped."

"And landed on your face?" Rachel asked, chuckling a little. As soon as she realized she laughed, her eyes went slightly wider for a second, and she looked down, averting her gaze from Quinn. "Sorry." Monotone again.

"It's okay," Quinn said, coming closer, taking the chair beside her bed. "It is kind of funny. I probably look beat up. It was a rough practice"

"You're having cheerleading practices over Christmas break?" Leroy asked.

"Yeah," Quinn said, sighing. Christmas was her favorite time of year. The fact that it was only five days away and she still had two more Cheerios practices sucked more than she cared to admit. "Sue, our cheerleading coach, is kind of… intense. Nationals is coming up in two months, and she doesn't see Christmas as a suitable purpose for skipping practices."

"That seems kind of insane," Leroy said, smiling.

"It is," Quinn agreed, "but if you ever got the chance to meet Sue, you'd understand. She's really focused on—"

"Why are you here?" Rachel asked, looking up at Quinn.

Quinn glanced over at Leroy as he started to say something, but she interrupted him. "Because I want to be." _Well that sounded arrogant_. "Because I wanted to see how you were doing. I was worried you might be…" _Don't say going crazy_ "…_bored_ here at the hospital, and I thought you might want someone to talk to besides your dads and nurses."

"Why would I want to talk to you?" Rachel asked, but, like her previous question, she didn't sound angry.

"Rachel…," Leroy started.

"It's okay," Quinn said to him, then turned back to Rachel. "Honestly, you might not want to talk to me. Really, I just wanted to talk to you, to see how you were doing. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and, if you're not, I… I want to help you be okay." She couldn't look at the girl in the hospital bed anymore, and took to staring down at her hands. "I feel… I don't know. Responsible, I guess. Like this is partly my fault. I hate it. I know I've done some terrible things in the past, but—"

"Daddy," Rachel said, interrupting her. "Would it be okay if I spoke with Quinn in private?" Quinn looked up surprised, and turned to see Leroy staring at them in confusion. "Please?" And for a second, Rachel sounded more like her old self again, and Leroy couldn't help but agree to anything she asked for.

"Sure, baby girl," he said, moving towards the door. "But I'll be right out here if you need me."

"Okay," Rachel said. "Thanks Daddy." Leroy fixed Quinn with another confused, considering stare, then stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Once she heard it click, Rachel turned to Quinn, staring thoughtfully at her. "I didn't want him to know how much the Cheerios have bullied me," she said quietly. "I don't want to hurt him."

"He-he doesn't know?" Quinn asked. "You never told your dads?"

"I did at the beginning of high school," Rachel said, looking down at the sheet covering her. "But near the end of our freshmen year, when things were getting really bad, I was… convinced… not to tell anyone anything else. I haven't told them anything since then. They think it's stopped, and I would appreciate them not knowing otherwise. I don't want to hurt them any more than I have."

"Rachel, I…" She didn't even have words for what she was feeling. How much guilt could one person hold before they burst? She looked over at the brunette still looking down. "I'm… Look, I'm not telling you this to get you to forgive me or anything. You don't have any reason to. I just… I want you to know how truly sorry I am. I can't apologize to you enough, but if I could, I'd spend the rest of my days trying to make it up to you. I… I'm really, _really_ sorry for how I treated you."

Rachel didn't look up from her blanket. She didn't say a word, move a muscle, shed a tear. Quinn wanted her to say something. Tell her to go to hell, or that she forgave her, or that she was going to get her back, or… something. Something more than to sit there like a statue, like she hadn't heard. Like she didn't care.

"Rachel…?" Quinn leaned over, trying to look her in the eye, but the girl's head was too far tucked into her chest. "Rachel, please. Just say something."

"I don't know what you want me to say," Rachel said, still looking down. "Do you want me to forgive you?"

"Only if that's how you really feel." There was a long tense silent minute, then:

"I…" Rachel finally looked up at Quinn. "I don't know how I feel. I haven't known how I feel for a while now. Since… since before Sectionals. There's just…" Her voice broke a little, and Quinn's heart broke with it. She sounded so sad and desperate. Quinn wanted to be thankful that at least she wasn't using that monotone voice, but this… She sounded so hurt. So in pain. "There's just too many thoughts, too many emotions. I don't know how to respond because I don't know what my response is. It's like everything is jumbled. Or like everything has been moved slightly to the left. Like my life has been moved two inches to the left. Just enough to make everything feel off, to make me feel… crazy… but not enough for anyone else to notice." She paused. "See? I don't even know if that makes sense or not, but it's how it feels. I don't know how to feel, Quinn. I don't know what to do…"

Rachel looked at her with tears threatening to fall. Her eyes were pleading, and Quinn needed to help her. She _wanted_ to. "Cats or dogs?" Quinn asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Cats or dogs? Which do you prefer? You know, as pets?"

"Cats, I guess, but—"

"Why?"

Rachel wiped the unfallen tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "Quinn, I don't know what—"

"Just say the first thing that pops into your head," Quinn said, soothingly, looking Rachel in the eyes and trying to get her to play along. "Don't think about it." Then more hesitantly , more quietly, she added, "Can you do that? Please?" Rachel stared at her for a moment then nodded slowly. "Okay," Quinn said, half smiling. "Why do you prefer cats as pets?"

"I..." It was clear she wanted to say _I don't know_, but Quinn was still gazing at her encouragingly, hazel eyes locked onto her chocolate brown ones. "They're divas," Rachel said, sniffling. "They're self sufficient, but they still want to be the center of attention."

"What's your favorite color?"

"Pink."

"Why?"

"It makes me feel pretty and girly," Rachel said. "I don't always…" And Quinn knew why. How many times had she called her 'Manhands' or 'Rupaul' or 'a tranny'?

"Summer or winter?" Quinn asked another seemingly random question before she could focus too much on her own thoughts. She had to do this to help Rachel.

"Winter."

"Why?"

"Because…," Rachel bit her lip, breaking the eye contact. "Because I can wear more clothes so people don't have to look at me so much." What little of a forced smile Quinn had was wiped away. "And because the thicker clothes help more with the slushees."

"Rachel, I—"

"Please don't, Quinn," Rachel said, sniffing again. "I'm trying to be honest. My psychiatrist said I needed to be, anyway. Just… just ask me something else, okay?"

"Okay, umm… Favorite meal?"

"Breakfast." Before Quinn could ask her why, Rachel was already answering, and for the first time since coming in, it sounded like Rachel. "My Dad makes these really awesome vegan pancakes into a Mickey Mouse head shape. They're delicious and cute." Rachel actually smiled for a second at the thought, while Quinn's stomach did some kind of fluttery thing because _she_ had caused that.

"Favorite movie?"

"Funny Girl." Rachel paused. "I like the story. It's about a woman who overcomes the odds to become a star." Quinn heard just from her tone that there was more she wanted to say, but she didn't know if she should ask. She didn't want to push.

"Favorite TV show?"

"iCarly." Quinn arched an eyebrow. "What? It's funny."

"Okay," Quinn said, genuinely smiling now. She searched for another question. "Um… oh! What are you thinking right now?"

"That I'd like to ask you a question," Rachel said.

"Okay."

"Why do you hate me?"

Quinn suddenly felt like she'd been punched in the heart. Her smile faltered, and she actually moved away from Rachel in her chair. "I don't… I don't hate you."

"But you used to, right?"

"I never—" A look from Rachel stopped her mid lie. She didn't want to lie necessarily, but she hated the truth so much. She was a horrible person for what she'd done, for the way she'd treated Rachel. She paused for a minute, looking around the room, out the window, at the nurse now pretending to read her book while listening to their entire conversation. She had a sudden laughable thought of the nurses being part of Sue's 'eyes everywhere'. After a long time, she finally said, "I never hated you because of you. It was because of me."

"I… I don't know what that means," Rachel said, a finger of her right hand tracing the contours of the brace on her left.

Quinn sighed. She deserved the truth. "My _father_," she nearly spat the word, "is a horrible hate-filled man. He's a conservative Republican Christian, along with every negative connotation that brings. He hates anything he considers 'liberal', 'sissy', or 'ungodly'. And he used all three of those words to describe your family a lot." Rachel looked away from her, and it Quinn, but she knew she deserved it. "I grew up hearing about the Berrys, that they were 'horrible sinners'. That they were an 'abomination of God' and 'shouldn't be allowed to have a child'. He used to love to bash your family at the dinner table while my sister Frannie nodded along. My mom at least had the decency to ignore his ramblings."

She paused, wishing Rachel would look at her. "My father is a horrible hate-filled man," Quinn repeated herself. "But he was still my dad, you know? And I was daddy's little girl. Of course I thought everything he was saying was right. He was my dad. He knew better than I did. If he said the Berrys were horrible, then they must have been. And the church we went to backed him up. They would slip in subtle little digs about your family, saying that 'a community is only as strong as its members, and if its members were heathens, it hurt the community'." Quinn felt sick at the memory of her old church using God against Rachel and her family. "They… _he_ made it okay for me to bully you. I was doing it to make him proud." She was silent for a moment, letting the memories swirl around in her head. "When I got to know you through Glee, and then, when he kicked me out… That's when I realized he was wrong. That the way I was acting wasn't okay."

"But you still hated me," Rachel said, still not looking at Quinn.

"I…" Quinn faltered. "I didn't hate you. I just wasn't… nice to you. Or even civil, really. And I'm really sorry for that. It's taken a while to get him out of my head. I like to think I've changed, though, that I'm someone that could…" Quinn train of thought derailed. She couldn't say what she was thinking, because those words didn't make any sense to her. She'd been about to say what she had prayed for… _someone that could love and support you_. She didn't, though. She couldn't.

"What?" Rachel asked, finally turning back to Quinn.

"I think I'm someone that could be your friend," Quinn said finally. "If you'll let me."

"I don't…" Rachel started, biting her lip and looking down. "I don't know if I can. I… I don't know why you'd want to be. I'm not exactly easy to be around. I know I'm shutting my dads out and they hate me for it."

"Rachel, they don't—"

"They do," she said, sniffing again. "I can see it. I'm so angry and confused, and I know I'm not the daughter I've been. They don't know how to handle me anymore. They walk on eggshells around me. You saw the way Daddy was talking to me, like I'm a five year old? It's been like that since we got here. They keep giving me this _look_; like I'm made of glass or that I'm crazy or something." She stopped, closing her eyes with tears leaking down her face. "Am I crazy? Is this what it feels like?"

Quinn reached out her hands, taking Rachel's fingers in her own. The brace was in the way, and she couldn't hold onto her hand completely, but she wanted her to know she was there. "You're not crazy, Rach," she said, thankful the girl wasn't pulling back from her touch. "I don't know how you're supposed to be feeling, but you're not crazy. You're just… you're just hurt or sick or something. That's why you're here. So you can get better."

"What if I never get better?" Rachel's voice was small and broken, and Quinn just wanted to spend the rest of her life comforting the girl if she had to. "What if I'm never… fixed?"

"You will be," Quinn said, rubbing her fingers gently. "I promise."

* * *

After Rachel's breathing had evened out and Quinn was pretty sure she was asleep, she went to let herself out of the room, only to find Leroy waiting outside. "Have you been out here this whole time?" she asked quietly, standing in the doorway and hoping not to wake Rachel.

"She's my life," Leroy said simply. "There's nowhere else I could be."

"That's…" Quinn started, overcome by emotions after talking about her own father. She quickly gave Leroy a hug, but before he could question it, she let him go. "I'm sorry," she said quickly.

"It's okay," he said with a sad smile, looking down at her. Much like Sue, his eyes seemed to penetrate her, but she was too emotional from talking to Rachel to put up a very convincing front. "So…" he said, changing the subject. "Who punched you?"

"What, no," Quinn said with wide eyes, stumbling over her words. "I dropped… I mean, I fell onto… someone dropped me and I—"

"Quinn," Leroy said, silencing her. "You may fool Rachel with that 'falling on your face' story, but I've been in quite a few fights in my day. I know a shiner when I see one." He was smirking, having caught her in her lie.

Quinn sighed. "One of my Cheerios," she said finally. "She was…" God, did she even want to say this and cause him any more trouble. The Berrys were already having so many difficulties as it was. "She was talking about Rachel. Making fun of her, saying she wished Rachel would… would finish…" She couldn't finish that statement. Ever. Leroy just nodded gravely, smile gone. "So, I kind of jumped her and started punching her repeatedly until I was pulled off."

Quinn looked down at the floor, embarrassed in front of this man for losing her cool when she was supposed to be a leader. It had been stupid to get so worked up, to let someone rile her up to that level. It was weakness, and as a leader, she couldn't be weak. If she wanted to help Rachel, she couldn't be weak. She had to be strong, like Leroy and Hiram were being. They all had to—

"Thank you," Leroy said, this time pulling her into a hug. His voice was thick with emotion as he spoke. "You stood up for my family, and I appreciate that more than you can possibly know. This town… sometimes there are so many bad ones that I forget there are good people here, too."

"There are," Quinn said, muffled into his shirt. She pulled back a bit and looked up at him. "And there are more people that care about Rachel than just me. Would it…" She hesitated, wondering if she was doing the right thing. "Would it be okay if I brought some more with me to see Rachel tomorrow?"

Leroy smiled down at her. "I think she'd like that."

* * *

Inside the room, Rachel had woken from her light drowsing by the creak of the door as Quinn had opened it. And without Quinn fully closing the door, she got to hear the conversation. Her Daddy loved her. Quinn had fought for her. And she said she wanted to bring more people to come see her. People that cared about her.

Rachel wanted this to make her feel better. To make her feel like she was wanted and loved and cared for. It was just confusing, though. She felt guilty that she had hurt these people by trying to end her own life. She was hurt that they didn't care enough before she'd tried, but that they suddenly cared now. She was angry that they hadn't come to see her but glad that they hadn't come, too. Rachel felt awhirl in her emotions, but one thing kept sticking out in her mind, and she clung to it like her own personal life preserver.

_Quinn fought for me._

* * *

**Author's Note #2: To answer a couple of things…**

**deedee: Forgive my ignorance, as I'm still pretty new to Fan Fiction, but what's "classic faberry"?**

**Renata: Thanks. Because of your comment, I went into more of an explanation of why Rachel's dads wouldn't be as mad at Quinn as they should be (they didn't know about it). I hope this answered that for you.**

**Spezria26: No, don't worry. Sue meant they lost him to Dalton Academy. They lost him from their school. I'm trying to stick with cannon up until Ep. 2x09: Special Education.**

**To everyone who's commenting on the realism: I've really been trying to do my research into what suicide attempt survivors are going through afterwards. There are some amazing stories out there.**


	7. Chapter 7: Okay

**Author's Note: Sorry about the delay. Some odd combination of work, school, Disney World, Mists of Panderia, and writer's block stopped me from writing. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

The visitations on Rachel's last day at the hospital started with Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury… or Ms. Pillsbury-Howell, now, she guessed. They had come right after her hospital breakfast brought by orderlies that, somehow, could not remember she was a vegetarian. Much like everything else in her life right now, though, Rachel couldn't seem to care. She had eaten the eggs with a plastic spoon because even the teeth of a spork might be "too dangerous", the whole time remembering how the first person she'd ever truly been in love with, Jesse, had thrown eggs at her as a parting remembrance.

They had come and sat with Rachel, telling her and Hiram that they would do whatever they could to be there for them, and would make her coming back to school as easy as possible. It was Hiram today, as Leroy had some important client he had to meet with. It was never the two of her fathers together, not since that first morning when Rachel had woken up. Ever since the separation, they couldn't be in the same room together.

Mr. Schuester was saying something ridiculous about considering suicide when he was in high school for getting caught cheating on a mid-term. Really? Did he _really_ think this was _actually_ helping? What was getting caught cheating on a test compared to realizing that no one loves you, that no one is _ever_ going to love you because you're a horrible selfish person? The kind of person that sends the competition to crack houses. The kind of person who cheats on her boyfriend with the same guy her boyfriend's ex cheated on him with. The kind of person that tries her best to steal a boyfriend away from a pregnant girl after said pregnant girl is thrown out of her house.

But instead of screaming in his stupid, naïve, butt-chinned face that he didn't understand hurt and pain, Rachel nodded and gave a weak smile like a normal person would. She didn't feel normal. She barely felt like a person. She was an excellent actress, though, and if normal was the part she needed to play to get them to leave, that was what she would do. …And, it _was_ kind of nice making them feel like they had made a difference, even if it was a lie.

On his way out, Mr. Schuester said that he couldn't wait to have her back and singing solos in front of the entire Glee Club. Rachel gave another small smile and nod, but after they were gone, a sudden horrifying thought occurred to her. She was in Glee Club. If anyone else from Glee Club was going to come and visit her, they might sing for her. There was no way she was ready to deal with that.

If anyone actually knew Rachel Berry, they would know that singing wasn't just a talent, some genetic winning lottery ticket that she could probably cash in for Grammys and Tonys and CD/soundtrack sales. Singing, to her, was a deeply personal action, like painting or writing or sculpting. It was her art form. Every song she picked out for every weekly assignment in Glee was something personal that simultaneously fit the lesson. Whether it was some song she connected with or some artist she admired, Rachel always did her best to make it heartfelt. As she had once written in her diary, music was the language of her heart and soul.

If one of her fellow Glee Club members came in and tried to sing to her, she didn't know if she could handle it. How could she sit there and listen to some emotional get well overly friendly song when she knew they didn't care about her in the slightest? It would be like lying to her, but in the most hurtful way possible.

Rachel talked this over with Dr. Richards, her new therapist, whom she'd been meeting with twice a day for the past two days, making this their fifth visit together. The first morning at the hospital she had seen an attending psychiatric physician, but after a general assessment, she had been recommended to Dr. Richards.

It was going to be on his recommendation whether Rachel was sent home the following morning or whether she would be admitted to a mental facility for some period of time. She didn't think she could handle being "locked up in an asylum like a crazy person", and when she had sobbingly confessed this to Dr. Richards, he had a) explained to her that it wasn't an "asylum for crazy people" but a hospital for healing the mind rather than the body, and b) given her pretty simple advice: Be honest with him. Dr. Richards told her that after twenty-five years in the mental health business he could spot liars, and people that lied couldn't be trusted to be at home where they might injure themselves again.

During these few sessions, Rachel had told him everything: about the bullying for years, about her parents' divorce, about cheating on Finn with Puck, about Shelby and Beth. He never judged her, only getting her to talk about her feelings and giving her advice that she needed to hear. That third morning was no exception.

"A lot of people that attempt suicide are secluded within themselves," Dr. Richards said, sitting in the chair previously occupied by Hiram who had been asked to leave. "The pain that they feel causes them to draw inward into what's called the 'suicidal trance', causing a negative emotional loop. Drawing inward, or away from others, causes a person to think that no one cares about them, which only causes them to draw further inward. What an attempt survivor such as yourself then has to deal with is the sudden exposure of all this hurt and pain. You go from no one knowing about your pain to everyone knowing about it. My guess is that you've been lying, been acting a certain way towards your friends and family so no one knows how much you're hurt. Right?"

Rachel stared down at her hands, running a finger over the brace on her forearm. The brace held her surgically repaired tendons together so she couldn't move them, so they would heal correctly. The monotone voice and emotionless attitude she had been using was that for her emotions, or at least that's what she told herself. "Yes."

"But there were signs there that no one else saw that you felt were neon signs to your pain," he said. "You were hurt that no one saw your pain, that no one saw these signs that were so clear to you, right?"

"Yes." Again, a small hollow voice. How did he know? Why hadn't everyone seen?

"What was it?" Dr. Richards asked. "What was the change that you felt everyone should have seen? What was your sign?"

"I…" Rachel took a deep breath. "I stopped singing. I know that doesn't sound like a big thing, probably, but if you knew me… I tried to help my fri… this boy I know, Kurt. I tried to help him get a solo and sang a song for him. I didn't sing anything else until the… the…"

"The video," he supplied for her. "And from everything you've told me about yourself, your not singing sounds like a huge piece of yourself that you hid away from the world. Does that sound like a correct statement?"

"After we won Sectionals," Rachel said, remembering the day she and Finn broke up, "Mr. Schuester, he asked me if I wanted to sing a solo. I didn't. I couldn't."

"It sounds like music is your connection to the world," Dr. Richards said. "The lens through which see the world. By giving that up, you withdraw away from the world, and that's understandable, because you think the world is hurting you. You even said in the video that the songs you chose weren't your usual genres of music which is, again, understandable. You haven't been connected with yourself in weeks. But here's how we're going to fix that—"

"I can't sing," Rachel said, suddenly emotional, tears brimming her eyes. The thought scared her. "I just… I can't."

"You don't have to," Dr. Richards said, patting her hand. "Because singing isn't about singing for you. It's about connecting. And there are other ways to connect with the world. What I want you to do is what we've been doing here. I want you to be honest with people." Rachel was about to interrupt again before Dr. Richards held up his hand to silence her. "I'm not saying be as open as you've been here with me. Just be honest. If someone asks you how you feel, you don't have to cover and say you're fine. It's okay to say 'I don't know' or 'I don't want to talk about it'. As to your earlier problem, if someone comes to sing for you, it's okay to ask them not to. This is about your healing, and if they care enough about you to come and try to sing for you, they'll care enough to respect that."

Dr. Richards left Rachel feeling… well, if not good then at least better about everything. She needed to be more honest with people. He had said it rather generally during their first session, but this time he had focused on it. He was an older gentleman, very distinguished, yet still personable. If he said that it would help, Rachel had to believe him, no matter how weird it seemed.

Mike and Tina came right before lunch, with Puck following sheepishly behind them. It was clear that they hadn't come together, but then it suddenly occurred to Rachel… Puck must have been waiting for someone else to show up so he didn't have to go see her by himself. Because, really, what do you say to the girl that you made out with to make her boyfriend jealous that then tried to kill herself when said jealous boyfriend broke up with her? While Puck said a couple of kind words about Jews sticking together and Mike just stayed nervously silent, Tina cried, apologizing for not coming to Rachel birthday party and for not being her friend and for a hundred other things that Rachel could barely make out over the tears.

After a few minutes, Rachel took a deep breath to try and gather her confidence then asked them politely to leave. Apologizing, she told them that Tina's crying was awkward and embarrassing, and it made Rachel feel terrible rather than better. Tina looked over at Mike through her tears with an are-you-kidding-me look, probably thinking that Rachel was such a complete diva bitch. Tina and Mike both tried to hide offended looks as they left, but Puck looked more relieved than anything else. She hadn't handled that as well as Dr. Richards probably would have wanted her to, but the guilt Rachel was feeling from causing Tina to cry was killing her.

Sometime after lunch, Mercedes and Kurt showed up, along with Kurt's new friend Blaine who made encouraging small talk but looked like he felt completely out of place and intrusive. Rachel could sympathize. She felt that way for most of her life.

After a couple of questions about how she was doing and how she was feeling, Kurt nearly fell down beside her, apologizing for missing her birthday party, for not being there for her when she needed him. "After the way you tried to get the guys to stop Karofsky," he said through the tears. "After you talked about imagining your own funeral. I should have… I should have…" He couldn't go on. Rachel felt like she should be crying with him, but the tears wouldn't come. She knew she was withdrawing again, but she was so tired of crying, so she let Kurt do it all for her. Mercedes, for her part, was pensive and unusually quiet and would never meet Rachel's eyes.

After a few minutes, Kurt recomposed himself and said, "And now Mercedes and I have a little surprise for you. I know you don't really know Blaine, yet, but he's really very talented, and I thought he could join us anyway. It's just a little something to show you that we care about you, and that you have friends even when you may think you don't."

_Oh, God, please no_, Rachel thought but kept quiet. This was exactly what she feared would happen. The words Dr. Richards said to her about being honest kept bouncing around in her head, but she couldn't say them. She'd seen the looks Mike and Tina had. If Kurt and Mercedes were trying to reach out to her, shouldn't she let them? Isn't that what "normal people" do?

"_You've got a friend in me  
__You've got a friend in me  
__When the road looks rough ahead  
__And you're miles and miles  
__From your nice warm bed  
__Just remember what your old pal said  
__You've got a—"_

"Please, stop," Rachel said, interrupting the three singers and bringing them to a complete stop. "I can't… I just… Stop."

"Is something wrong?" Kurt asked, looking worried. "Do we need to get a doctor or something?" He looked over at the nurse expectantly, but she only glanced up at the scene, then went back to her book.

"No," Rachel said, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. "You're not my friends. You don't get to come in here and sing something like that when you… when you don't even mean it. You can't just… _pretend_… that everything's okay. I've tried… I've tried so hard to be you guys' friend, and every time you shove me away or ignore me or call me names, and I… I just can't." Then quieter, "I just can't."

"Rachel—"

"I think you should leave," Rachel said, wiping at her eyes.

Kurt, Mercedes, and Blaine all exchanged worried glances, but left without another word. Hiram came back in soon after to find his daughter teary eyed and staring past the nurse out the window, watching the clouds. An afternoon session with Dr. Richards followed soon after where Rachel told him all about her visitors. He told her that the feelings she was having were normal, and that he was proud of her for being honest with her friends. She disagreed with his use of the term "friends", but he pointed out that they _did_ come and visit. He suggested that perhaps they had been bad friends in the past, but at least they were trying now, and that she should try to keep that in mind. She promised to try.

After Rachel's afternoon therapy session, she had been sitting with Hiram in awkward silence when there was a knock at the door. Hiram went to open the door, and standing outside it was Finn. He was holding a gift shop teddy bear with attached balloon that said "Get Well Soon". _I guess they were all out of the 'Glad You Failed In Killing Yourself' balloons_, Rachel thought with an internal derisive laugh. Hiram glanced back at his daughter with some combination of worry and pity, but Rachel simply nodded so he let Finn in.

Finn walked in, both hands clutching the bear. "I got this for you," he said, sitting it down in Rachel's lap. Free of the bear, both hands found his jean pockets and his head hunched forward. He was like the world's largest bashful four year old, yet Rachel still somehow found herself in love with his shyness. She wasn't as physically attracted to him as she had been some other people in the past, but she still had all these feelings for him. Somewhere at the very center of it, he was the quarterback and a star at McKinley, and she had a thing for stars.

"Thanks," Rachel said, giving him a small sad smile. It seemed like that was all she had these days. They sat there in awkward silence. At some point, Hiram had left the room, and it was just them and the ever constant nurse.

"So… how are you?" Finn asked.

"I'm…" Rachel automatically started to lie again, but remembered what Dr. Richards told her. "I don't know."

"Oh." There was more awkward silence, and Rachel had the sudden realization that without her normally verbose air, their conversations were virtually nonexistent. Had she really filled so much of the conversational void between them? Well, no, not always. Finn at some point would criticize her or call her crazy or controlling or look confused so she'd have to repeat herself with a more simplified word choice. "Cool."

After a few more minutes of _very_ small talk, Finn finally said, "I'm glad you're okay." For some unknown reason, this caused Rachel to start crying all over again. Finn bent down and kissed her on the forehead and then let himself out.

Once he was finally gone, Rachel clutched the bear and started sobbing into it harder than she had in a while. She was wracked with sobs that shook her to her core. One "friend" had tried to apologize, two "friends" had tried to sing to her, and now her ex-boyfriend was bringing her a get well present. She hated them all. She hated herself for hating them. What the hell was wrong with her?

* * *

Quinn walked the halls of the hospital, passing an unobservant Finn Hudson on the way in. Finn had been to see Rachel. The simple phrase stopped her cold, though she didn't have a reason that it should. He was an ex-boyfriend coming to check on his ex-girlfriend that was in the hospital. It was the epitome of trying to stay friends. Why should Finn being there bother her? And yet, at the thought, she found herself walking faster towards Rachel's room.

As soon as she opened the door, she could hear the girl sobbing. A sudden murderous urge towards Finn rose in her chest but was quickly quieted down. She could do that any time. Right now, she needed to take care of Rachel.

Quinn walked over to her bedside and took the familiar plastic chair. She didn't even notice that Quinn was there. The girl was squeezing a stuffed bear with an attached helium balloon to her face and sobbing hard into it.

"Rachel…?" Quinn called out tentatively. She didn't want to startle her, but she wanted to help, somehow.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked, opening her raw eyes enough to look at the blonde in the chair. "Quinn, I don't feel… feel like…" She was quiet for a moment. "Please… please just go away."

Quinn recognized that voice. It wasn't the monotone one she had been using for her dad the day before. The monotone voice that Rachel had dropped for her, Quinn now realized. No, this one was much worse, and she'd hoped to never hear it again. It had haunted her dreams for the past few nights. She remembered the words. God, she doubted she'd ever forget them. 'Just let me go. It'll all be okay, Quinn. Really. Everyone will be better off.' This was the pleading voice that Rachel had used Saturday night. The voice that asked Quinn to go away. To let her die.

"No," Quinn said quietly.

"Please, Quinn, just—"

"No." Quinn reached out a hand to Rachel's arm, but the smaller girl shook it off. "I'm not going anywhere, Rachel. Like I told you yesterday, I want to be your friend. I want to help you get better, but I can't if you don't let me." She was silent for a moment, staring at the girl who refused to meet her eyes. Softly, she added, "Please, Rachel. I'm… God, I'm trying. I want to be here for you. I just… I really just want to be your friend."

She reached out her hand again to Rachel's arm and this time the brunette let it sit there. Quinn smiled at the progress if nothing else. She really didn't know what to do, though. She hadn't planned on comforting a sobbing Rachel. She had planned on singing a song to… _for_ Rachel, something she had looked up the previous night while ignoring Sam's phone calls. She really needed to stop doing that, but it seemed like all her attention was focused on Rachel right now, and everything else was taking a backseat. She didn't know if the song would still work, though. She just had to hope.

"Rachel," Quinn said after a silent minute rubbing her arm while the girl cried. "Would it… would it be okay if I sang something for you? It's not much. A chorus, really, but I thought you would like it."

Rachel finally looked up at Quinn with shining eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, and nodded a very small nod. Quinn smiled reassuringly at her and moved her hand down her arm to where her hands held the teddy bear. She grasped the fingers of Rachel's braced hand, stroking them slightly, trying to reassure the girl.

"_There is no upper hand, so I'm giving you mine  
__It doesn't have to end up wasting your time  
__There's things that I could say  
__But here in my way  
__I want to let you know that it's all okay"_

Rachel stared at Quinn, unblinking, so long that Quinn started to feel uncomfortable, but she kept gazing at Rachel, trying to be reassuring. She felt the diva examining her, much like Sue and Leroy had done. Getting under her skin, peeling apart her soul to examine its contents. Quinn didn't look away. She just kept smiling at Rachel, willing her to understand that it _was_ going to be okay. Rachel needed to trust her. She needed to believe it. They both did.

"I like… your smile," Rachel said eventually, not really singing but melodically whispering, as if she wanted to sing but couldn't bring herself to. "But even introductions need to last… a while. Sometimes I don't know if I'm right… or wrong. And in the end it seems like everything… is worse when you're gone."

Quinn waited, wondering if she would continue singing, but Rachel simply looked at Quinn expectantly. Of course she didn't sing. It was a duet, and this was Quinn's turn.

"_There is no upper hand, so I'm giving you mine  
__It doesn't have to end up wasting your time  
__There's things that I could say  
__But here in my way  
__I want to let you know that it's all okay"_

"So there… you are," Rachel said, a little stronger, a little louder this time. It still wasn't singing, but it was better. "Mistakenly mistaken for a deep… er scar. A hole in your heart and the same… for me. Is everything you touch keeping you down… or setting you free?"

This time Quinn didn't wait. She simply went into the chorus again, as this was her part. Not just of the song, but of this moment. She was the one saying the same thing, repeatedly reassuring Rachel that it would be okay. She wasn't singing _for_ Rachel or _with_ Rachel. She was singing _to_ Rachel.

"_There is no upper hand, so I'm giving you mine  
__It doesn't have to end up wasting your time  
__There's things that I could say  
__But here in my way  
__I want to let you know that it's all okay"_

Quinn looked over at her expectantly, but Rachel just shook her head. The next part was the bridge, the most powerful part of the song, and Rachel couldn't sing it. Was this some kind of metaphor or something? She'd always said metaphors were important. Was that what she was trying to tell Quinn? That she couldn't… what? Do the bridge? Get over the bridge? Get past this? Or was this Quinn's bridge? Something she had to get over.

"_I'll shelter your eyes from the sun  
__And wait for the birds to fly by  
__Trying to reach every one  
__And know what you're feeling inside  
__Deep in my head now, it's like a dream…"_

Quinn stopped there, holding out the next to the last word for a moment before letting silence envelope them. Quinn knew the word after dream was 'goodbye', but she wouldn't let herself say it. She'd come too close to saying goodbye to Rachel already. She couldn't bring herself to sing it to her. That would make it more real.

"You were supposed to say 'goodbye' there, Quinn," Rachel said quietly, fresh tears falling down her face. She sniffled and, with the hand Quinn wasn't holding, wiped her eyes with the back of the bear's head.

"I'm never saying goodbye to you, Rachel," Quinn said before she had a chance to over think it. It felt like the right thing to say. "And I meant the words I sang to you. It's all going to be okay." With her free hand, she reached up and cupped Rachel's cheek, wiping away a stray teardrop. It should have felt too personal, too close, for someone she had spent the better part of two years torturing. But there, in that room, in that moment…

Rachel gave her a smile through the tears. "I meant what I said, too," she said, leaning into Quinn's hand. "I don't know if it's right or wrong, but it really is worse when you're gone. I-I'm glad you're here."

Behind Rachel the nurse sniffed a teary sniff, and they both turned to look at her. She was the younger pregnant nurse that Rachel had the first morning, and she was doing her best to hide the fact that she was crying behind her book. Rachel turned back and found Quinn's hazel eyes, and they both started chuckling at the eavesdropping nurse. It really had been a nice moment.

Quinn started to pull back out of Rachel's grasp and sit back in the chair, but Rachel made a sad moan and held on to Quinn's hand as best she could with the brace on. They both looked down at their linked hands. Quinn's glance flitted up to Rachel's face who looked like she hated to stop holding hands but didn't want to at the same time. Quinn felt the same. She readjusted in the hard plastic chair, but kept her hand where it was, fingers entwined with Rachel's.

* * *

"Okay" by Backhouse Mike


	8. Chapter 8: Quid Pro Quo

**Author's Note: Yeah, I suck. Sorry for the wait. Enjoy.**

* * *

They sat in silence while Rachel cried and Quinn held her hand. Something had happened today, something with Finn, and Quinn knew Rachel would talk about it when and if she wanted to. It was just important for Quinn to be there for her. After a while, Rachel finally took the sheet covering her and wiped her eyes. "You changed the words of the song," she said with a sniffle.

_Of course that's what Rachel Berry would focus on_, Quinn thought, smiling. "Yes, well, I like my version better."

"Me too," Rachel said quietly.

"I'm glad you knew it," Quinn said. "I looked it up last night. You said your favorite TV show was iCarly, and so I was looking around on Wikipedia. Did you know the guy that makes that show is the same guy that made Zoey 101?"

Rachel loosed a small wet chuckle. "I did. I used to watch it all the time when I was younger."

"Oh. Me too." They shared a smile. Who knew they would actually have stuff in common? "So I went through my CDs and found it on the soundtrack. I always thought the line was 'so here in my way' instead of 'so hear it my way'. Until last night, anyway, when I was learning to sing it."

"You did a really good job," Rachel said.

Quinn waited for some kind of criticism or the backhanded part of that compliment, but it didn't come. "That's it?" Quinn asked with a grin. "You're not going to tell me I was sharp or suggest how I could improve or anything?"

Rachel shook her head, hair falling to partially hide her face. "Nope. I liked it. I liked how you changed the bridge, too."

Quinn reached over and brushed Rachel's hair back, letting her hand glide through it and come to rest on her cheek. Rachel wore a small smile and was blushing a little, and it made Quinn suddenly warm. Shy. She hadn't really planned on changing the words. Driving to the hospital, she had only planned on singing the song the way it was supposed to be sung. It had been a spur of the moment idea to change the words for Rachel.

Quinn took her hand away from Rachel's face, and looked down to see her other hand still linked with Rachel's brace covered one. "I wanted to let you know that I'd take care of you," Quinn said, suddenly bashful and unable to meet Rachel's inquisitive gaze. "You weren't going to sing it, and the words… it sounded like a request to me, you know. 'Shelter my eyes from the sun'. I wanted to let you know that… that you don't have to ask. That I'll do it anyway."

Rachel didn't respond until Quinn looked back up and into her eyes. "Why?" Quinn wasn't sure how to answer, or even sure of the question, really, so Rachel went on. "I mean, why are you here? Why are you trying to help me? Why did…" She paused, staring at Quinn like she couldn't decide whether she wanted to ask it or not. "Why did you save me? How did you even know to save me? I just… I just don't understand any of…," she waved a hand at Quinn… "you. Your involvement. So… yeah. Why?"

"Oh, wow," Quinn said with a chuckle. "That's a loaded question." She finally pulled away from Rachel's hand to sit up straighter, pushing her hands through her hair before setting them back on the arms of the chair.

"It was… God, this sounds so stupid to say out loud, and I know you may not believe me, but I think… I think it was divine intervention." Rachel stared at Quinn skeptically, and she knew it had to sound like the dumbest, most implausible thing on Earth, but there it was. "I was listening to that Christmas song you sang last year, the one from the Grinch on your MySpace page. Then I just kind of wanted to see what else you had sung and I got to the top and saw the video and when it was posted." She was quiet for a second, remembering how weird it had felt. "There were only nine minutes between when you posted it and when I saw it."

"So you really did see the video?" Rachel asked. "I kind of remembered you saying that the other night, but I wasn't sure if you'd really said it or if I'd just imagined it. Some things from that night are a little hazy."

"Well, you were really drunk," Quinn said, then paused, thinking. That had seemed so out of character for Rachel, but, then again, so had everything in the last few days. "What was up with that, by the way? You never really seemed like the drinking kind. I was surprised to see you so drunk and so… angry."

Rachel dropped her eyes away from the blonde, staring down at her lap as her fingers played with each other. "Sorry about that," she said in a small voice.

"You don't have to apologize," Quinn said automatically, reaching out a hand to still Rachel's. "I knew you weren't yourself. Like I said, I was just surprised."

"I… I read that alcohol could thin the blood," Rachel said, looking up at Quinn. "I thought if I was drunk then I would… I would bleed out faster. And, I thought that I'd be less likely to chicken out if I was drunk. You know, liquid courage and all that."

"Oh." Quinn said simply. It made sense that Rachel Berry would have planned all this out. She planned out everything. It still broke her heart, though, imagining Rachel actually planning out her own death. "Are you…" She paused, unsure if she should actually be asking this. She felt she needed to know. "Are you mad at me? Mad that I stopped you?"

"I…" Quinn's breath hitched in her throat. She felt sure she was going to lie to her. But then… "Yes. Sometimes." Rachel looked over at Quinn and could see how her face had fallen. "But sometimes I'm not," she said quickly, reassuringly. "It's… I've had a lot of time to think since Saturday. It's all I've been doing, really. Thinking and talking to my therapist. And what I've come to is that I don't really know how I feel. I wish… I really do wish that it was some kind of life-altering experience. That I suddenly woke up and was glad to be alive. But it's not. I'm not. I'm still trapped in this same life, and all that's different now is that I know I can't try suicide again because I don't want to hurt my dads. It still hurts every day, all the time. But there are… there are things that make it better. Like talking to Dr. Richards. And when you're here."

"Me?" Quinn was taken aback. Rachel had said she'd meant the words, too, that 'everything is worse' when she was gone. Quinn just thought that it meant Rachel had had a bad day before she'd gotten there. Not that… "Talking to me makes it better? Why? I mean, I'm glad, but… why?"

Rachel shook her head, almost like she didn't understand it, either, like she was still trying to figure it out. "I don't know. I guess, maybe, since you've seen me at my absolute worst, it's easier to be honest with you. Which is good, I guess, because Dr. Richards said that I need to be more honest with people. I look at my dads, and they just seem so hurt and so sad all the time, and I know I can't be honest with them about things. I can't hurt them anymore. And Dr. Richards, he's been great, really, and I can tell him anything, but he's just… He's a doctor, and he's going to listen, but it's like he's judging me, because, you know, he literally _is_ judging me. Whether I'm sane enough to get out of the hospital tomorrow or not." Rachel paused, breathing a little quicker.

_It's been a while since she's been on a rant like that_, Quinn thought, waiting quietly for Rachel to continue. _She's been so shut down since Finn dumped her. She's out of practice._

"And then there's you," Rachel said. "You've seen me at my worst, and you've saved my life, and yet…" The word drug out between them, and Rachel turned away to look out the window. "I don't know if I can trust you."

Quinn was about to ask why Rachel couldn't trust her, but of course she already knew. After everything she'd done to the girl in the past, it was astounding Rachel was even letting her sit there. "I understand," she said quietly. "I wouldn't trust me either. I know it's not a consolation at this point, but I really am sorry for everything. For all the slushies and insults and—"

"I didn't say that to get another apology from you," Rachel said, turning back and locking eyes with Quinn. "I just wanted you to understand where I was coming from. How screwed up my life is right now. The only person I feel really comfortable talking to, and I can't trust them not to go and use it to hurt me."

"Rachel—"

"But then, yesterday," Rachel said, interrupting again. "You told Daddy about your black eye. About how you got it." She suddenly seemed shy now. "About how… about how you fought for me. You did fight for me, right?"

It was Quinn's instinct to lie, to push away the feelings and keep with the lie she'd told Rachel yesterday about falling. That's how things were in the Fabray household. Anything that could be potentially embarrassing or make the Fabrays look bad was pushed down, ignored, or outright lied about. Looking at the girl, though, how she was pleading for it to be true, Quinn knew she couldn't. "Yes."

"Again… why?" Rachel asked.

Quinn looked away and sighed. Her whole life, she'd been taught to lie, to keep people from finding out about anything personal. Yet here was this little broken girl demanding answers from her. "Rachel… God, I don't know. I just—"

"Quinn," Rachel said, a glimmer of the bossy diva attitude bubbling up to the surface, monotone voice momentarily forgotten. "I just told you that I'm trying to be honest with you, and that I'm having trust issues here. The least you could do is try to be honest with me. If we're honest with each other, that could be an excellent basis of our burgeoning friendship. Especially since you've previously stated that you would be interested in us being friends."

Quinn smiled. She'd missed the Rachel-speak, even if it was still kind of grating. It reminded her of the old Rachel, the one that conquered life rather than was crushed by it. If being honest brought that Rachel back, then honesty was what Quinn would do. But for a price…

"Have you ever seen Silence of the Lambs?" Quinn asked.

Rachel crossed her arms and huffed, which caused Quinn to grin anew. "No. And you're changing the subject."

"No, it's related, I promise," Quinn said. "It's about this FBI woman who's tracking down this serial killer, but she needs the help of another serial killer that's already in prison. He's a psychiatrist also, the second killer, so he's interested in people. So in exchange for information, he asks her personal questions and she has to answer honestly or he won't help her. He calls it 'quid pro quo'." Quinn went suddenly silent, nervous that Rachel might think her suggestion stupid.

"And…?"

"Well…" Quinn started. "What if we did something like that? Like, you can ask me a question and I have to answer it honestly, then I'll ask you a question, and you have to answer it honestly. Nothing's off limits. That way, you can know I won't go and tell your secrets or anything because you'll know mine and could just as easily go and tell them." She paused while Rachel stared down at her lap, biting at her bottom lip. When the brunette didn't say anything, Quinn added, "I mean, we don't have to. Like, if you think it's stupid or something…"

"No, I don't think it's stupid," Rachel said quickly, finally looking up. "I'm just… surprised… that you would be willing to do that. You always seem so private. I know it's one of the things Finn complained about when he was dating you. He said he never knew where he stood with you. I don't get why you'd be willing to do that with me."

"Because you need it," Quinn said quickly before she had a chance to over think it. "And because I'm partly to blame for you being here. If I hadn't torn you down every day for a year and a half, maybe you'd have… I don't know… cared about yourself more or something. You wouldn't have felt this was necessary. I want to make up for what I've done. That's why I want to help you. If being honest with you- if getting you to trust me can help, then that's what I want to do."

Rachel started to say something, but Quinn cut her off quickly. "That's why I got in a fight yesterday. There was this girl. A Cheerio. And she was saying some stuff about you, about how she wished…" Quinn stopped, unable to say the words. "Anyway, I just kind of lost it and jumped her and started punching her. Sue pulled us apart and announced that anyone else caught making fun of you would be cut immediately. And that anyone else in the school who wasn't a Cheerio that did or said anything bad about you would face the 'wrath of Sue'."

Rachel stared wide-eyed. "She… she did that for me?"

"Yeah," Quinn said. "I couldn't believe it either." Quinn shook her head. "I'm always surprised when Sue actually cares about people. First with Kurt about the whole Karofsky thing, and now with you."

"She's always seemed so scary and cold," Rachel said, looking thoughtful. "And the way she keeps trying to 'crush the Glee Club'. I never thought she'd do something like that. Especially for…" She cut off, embarrassed.

"You deserve it as much as anyone," Quinn responded to her unspoken statement. Rachel looked like she was about to object, but Quinn cut her off. "My turn now. I get to ask you a question since I answered yours… I think." She was suddenly doubtful.

Rachel laughed at the blonde's scrunched up face. "It was more of a question jumble than an actual single question," she said with a chuckle. "But it's okay. You can ask yours now."

Quinn smiled, glad to see she was playing along. "Good." But her expression turned quickly serious again. "When I came in you were crying…" She trailed off, wondering how exactly to phrase what she was asking.

"That's not a question," Rachel said, the slight smile that had been playing at her lips quickly disappearing.

"You're right, it's not. Sorry," Quinn said. "I guess it's… why were you crying when I came in today?"

"I…" Rachel started, then gave a weary sigh. "If I say I don't know, would you actually believe me?"

"Maybe?" Quinn offered, reaching out and rubbing the girl's bicep encouragingly a couple of times before sitting back. "Why not just tell me what happened, then?"

"I… I had a bad day," Rachel said simply. For a moment, Quinn thought she was going to leave it at that, but soon she was talking, the words rushing out in a frantic pace that left both of them feeling confused. Rachel told Quinn about her Will and Emma visiting and how Will tried to make her feel better by talking about his own suicidal thoughts.

"Over an exam? Really?" Quinn thought it was silly, compared to what had happened to Rachel, and she couldn't keep from scoffing at their teacher as she said it.

"I know, right?" Rachel said, shaking her head.

She told Quinn about her realization that someone might sing for her, to which Quinn quickly looked up, though she didn't interrupt. She talked about her session with Dr. Richards, even when Quinn said she didn't need to tell her about that. It was private, after all. "I don't mind," Rachel said, nervously. "It's nice to tell someone who seems to care and acts like they're interested."

"Rachel," Quinn said, patting her hand. "I'm not acting interested. I am interested. And I do care."

She talked about Mike and Tina and Puck coming, and Tina's apologetic crying, and how she had asked her to leave. Secretly, Quinn thought it was kind of rude, but she couldn't fault Rachel, not really. How many of Quinn's "friends" in Cheerios had bailed on her when she had turned up pregnant? It was the opposite with Rachel, these people suddenly wanting to befriend her only after she'd ended up here. _If you're not there for the good and the bad, you're not really a friend_, she thought. She also tried not to notice how that applied to her, and how she was apparently the exception to that rule.

Rachel told her about Kurt, Mercedes, and the Warbler named Blaine coming later, and how they had tried to sing for her. "I couldn't let them," Rachel said, voice heavy with unshed tears, pleading for Quinn to understand. "They didn't mean what they were singing. After Dr. Richards said it's like my window to the world… to have them come in and sing about being my friend… I just couldn't."

Rachel stared out the window until Quinn's voice broke the silence. "You let me sing to you, though," she said simply, almost reverently. It was like the Rachel had let her in on a secret, shared a piece of her world, and Quinn was moved beyond words. It may not be the friendship she was hoping for, not yet, but it was a step in the right direction.

"You were honest," Rachel said, looking back at her, a tear trailing down her cheek. Quinn reached up and wiped it away and Rachel leaned into her palm. They shared a look, a moment that seemed to stop the world just for them. There was a nurse in the room watching them, patients and doctors moved outside the door, cars passed on the street below, and yet… for a moment, they were the only two people in the world.

A knock on the door caused Quinn to jump back, silently cursing whoever was there. Rachel looked down bashfully at her hands, while Quinn stood quickly, nervously. "I'll get it," she said, moving towards the door and fighting the blush that painted her cheeks and neck.

Opening the door, Quinn was just able to make out that it was Brittany and Artie before she was wrapped in the taller girl's arms. "Quinn!" Brittany squealed, clutching a stuffed duck in her hands as she pulled back. "I called your house to see if you'd come with me to visit Rachel, but your mom said you'd probably be here already. I got Artie to come with me instead. I was worried I'd get lost and wander into the wrong part of the hospital and end up doing surgery on someone accidentally… again. I don't like blood."

Quinn couldn't help but smile at the Cheerio's infectious happiness. It was like she was filled with sunshine. "Hi, Britts," Quinn said then smiled down at her wheelchaired boyfriend. "Hey, Artie." Looking back at Brittany, she said, "Let me just see if Rachel's feeling up to any more visitors today, okay?"

"Okay," Brittany said, grinning. Quinn stepped back into the room and pulled the door partially closed, turning back to see Rachel who had been staring at the door, awaiting her return.

"It's Brittany and Artie," Quinn said, stepping closer to Rachel's bedside. "Brittany wanted to come visit, and she brought Artie with her. She said she didn't want to get lost." Rachel stared uncertainly up at Quinn. "If you don't want to have any more visitors right now, or at all, I'll tell them whatever you want me to. It's up to you. But if it makes you feel better, Brittany seemed really upset yesterday after she found out." Realizing what she had implied, her eyes widened and she quickly added, "Not that her feeling bad would make you happy. I didn't mean to say that. I just meant that—"

"Tell her I brought her a present!" Brittany yelled through the door, probably startling patients and doctors in the adjoining rooms.

A smile broke out over Quinn's face. It's not like Rachel couldn't hear her yelling. No, Quinn had to pass the message. Sometimes she couldn't help but love Britts. "And apparently she brought you a present."

Rachel looked thoughtful for a second, but finally nodded as if agreeing to some life-altering event. Quinn almost laughed at her, because, really, how dramatic could someone be? Thankfully she held it in. Even if she was trying to be there for Rachel and help her get back to normal, she still sometimes found it difficult to be around the girl without mocking her. Feelings didn't change overnight, and Quinn needed to work on the little things like that as well as the big ones. She'd apologized to her and had truly meant it, but there were still vestiges of her past behavior that stuck out. That need to mock Rachel for being her overly dramatic self was one of them.

Quinn walked back to the door, and opened it, taking in a nervous looking Brittany and Artie. "You guys can come in," she said, stepping back and allowing them into the room. Brittany pushed Artie, keeping him a barrier between herself and Rachel. As excited as she'd been just moments ago, she now seemed shyly hesitant.

"Hi, Rachel," Brittany whispered then noted the ever present nurse. "Hi Rachel's nurse." Turning back to Rachel, she whispered, "I brought you a duck." In her outstretched hand was a stuffed duck. "I was going to bring you Mr. Quackers, because he makes me feel better when I'm sick, but Santana said it wasn't the same kind of sick. So, I brought you a different ducky, because it's a different kind of sick."

"Thank you, Brittany," Rachel said, reaching out to take the stuffed duck. "But why are you whispering?"

"When my granddad was in the hospital, mom told me we had to whisper when I was in his room," Brittany answered, still whispering.

"That's because he was sleeping," Artie said, looking up at the tall blond and patting the hand that was gripping his shoulder.

"Oh," Brittany said. "I thought you just had to whisper in hospitals."

Quinn watched all this from the door. She went to close it but saw Hiram coming down the hall. "Hey, Quinn," he said, closing the distance to the room. "Everything okay? I thought Finn was visiting Rachel?"

"He was," Quinn said, shrugging, trying to not let her thoughts focus on the tall idiot that had left Rachel a sobbing mess. She was already subconsciously thinking of ways she could pay him back for that in the most painful way possible. "I think I must have just missed him. Brittany and Artie are in there now."

Hiram looked up to the ceiling, trying to remember. "Tall blonde Cheerio that can dance and white boy that thinks he's black in a wheelchair?"

"Are you like the best guesser in the world, or…?," Quinn asked, smiling but letting the question dangle between them. She had a sudden image of Rachel creating Glee Club flash cards and quizzing her fathers on them.

"No, no," Hiram laughed. "Rachel talks about her friends all the time."

"Her friends?" Quinn asked. The smile was slowly fading from her face.

"In Glee Club," he said. "She's told us all about your hangouts and stuff. Practices and going to each other's after school and Glee Club parties."

"Glee Club parties…" Quinn said, making it more a statement than a question. She didn't want Hiram to catch on to what she was thinking.

"Yeah," Hiram said. "I don't know why you guys stopped having them. Rachel used to come home on Friday nights and talk about how you Gleeks- her word, not mine. How you played truth or dare and sang karaoke and watched movies. I made sure to tell her if she ever wanted to have one at our house, you all were more than welcome. Seems she stopped talking about them after she started dating Jesse, though. I guess since she was going out on dates, some of them had to be those parties…" Hiram noticed the look on Quinn's face and stopped himself. "I'm sorry; I have a tendency to ramble. Anyway, yeah, she goes on and on about all you." Hiram's face fell. "Or, at least, she used to. I just don't get why she'd lie about inviting everyone over for her birthday, though."

Quinn knew the truth. Rachel hadn't lied about her birthday. She'd lied about everything else. There'd been no Glee Club parties, no afterschool get-togethers. God knows where she'd been hiding out those Friday nights while lying to her parents. She hadn't stopped going to parties while dating Jesse and Finn; she'd simply stopped lying about it.

Hiram's voice brought Quinn back from her revelation. "So, I'll just leave you kids alone and let you and Artie and…"

"Brittany," she supplied for him.

"Right, Brittany," Hiram said. "I'll let you visit with Rachel for a while. I have some calls I need to make about work, so this'll be a nice time to catch up. If you need anything, I'll be in the cafeteria."

Quinn thanked him as Hiram left, and she let herself back into Rachel's room. Brittany had gotten over her initial shyness and was sitting on the edge of Rachel's bed, the hand with the brace sitting in the Cheerio's lap as Brittany subconsciously played with it She was in the middle of a story and… oh no.

"-And then Coach Sue pulled her off," Brittany said. "I couldn't believe it. She was just on top of her punching and hitting and she was just so angry that Missy had said that about you. I don't really like violence, but Missy said such mean things that I really didn't mind too much this time."

"Britts," Quinn said, walking into view. "I really don't think Rachel wants to hear about Cheerios practice. I mean, I'm sure she has enough—"

"I don't mind, Quinn," Rachel said, staring up at her with this… expression. Like awe, maybe? Or some kind of hero worship? If Quinn were a boy, it would have almost looked like… _well, damn. That's… unexpected. I mean, sure, I did save her life. And, okay, I beat up a bitch for her. And, yes, she did say everything was better when I was around. And that I was the only one she could trust to talk to honestly. And it's not like I haven't thought about… No. Just no. No, no, no, no, no. There's _NO_ way she'd actually… This is crazy. Rachel fucking annoying Berry _does not_ have a crush on me. She couldn't. She doesn't. Does she?_

"Quinn?" Rachel asked when she hadn't moved any closer. "Are you okay?"

"What? Yeah. I was just…" Quinn trailed off, not sure what to say. Or if she should say anything. _God, this is so… Fuck it. Do it the Fabray way. Lie._ "It's just embarrassing," Quinn said, ducking her eyes so she wouldn't have to see Rachel with that fucking expression. "I'm supposed to be a leader, and I beat up one of my girls. I mean, I really shouldn't have done it. So… can we just change the subject or something?"

"Sure," Rachel said, sounding a little disappointed. There was a certain eagerness in her eyes when Quinn looked up, and it reminded her of the old Rachel Berry. The one that wanted everything she could dream of. The popularity, the friends, the boyfriend, the Broadway career… Just as soon as she had seen it, though, it was gone. Replaced by… something. If her eyes could use the same monotone voice she'd spoken with earlier, it would have. It was like her personality was gray. Like the real Rachel Berry was hiding behind bland and beige.

Brittany and Artie stayed for almost an hour which, besides Quinn, was some kind of record for her friends visiting without incident. Eventually, though, they simply got too uncomfortable and had to leave. Dodging around the huge topic of Rachel's attempted suicide made small talk nearly impossible with the girl, at least there in the hospital. Rachel also had a tendency to zone out while they were talking, getting lost in her own thoughts. Multiple times Brittany or Artie would look at Quinn after asking a question, and she would have to get Rachel's attention in order for her to be brought back into the conversation. Quinn could only hope that when Rachel was home and away from the white walls and smell of industrial cleaners she would be able to interact with people better.

Quinn hated to see them go. It was nice having a buffer there between herself and Rachel. As much as she wanted to help the girl get better, it's not like her personality had suddenly changed and they were getting along. Except… that's kind of _exactly_ what happened. Since she'd been visiting in the hospital the last couple of days, they'd been friendly towards each other. _But… no, _Quinn thought_. It's been longer than that. She hasn't really annoyed me since she and Finn broke up. That's when she changed._

The thought of Finn brought back the memory of earlier, seeing him in the hallway. Coming into Rachel's room and finding her crying. "Rachel?" Quinn called out softly, not wanting to disturb the girl too much away from her thoughts. She looked up at Quinn with a glazed look in her eyes, like she wasn't even seeing her. It took a moment for her eyes to focus on Quinn's face.

"Hmmm?"

"What happened today?" Quinn asked, leaning closer to the bed from her chair beside it. "With Finn? Before Brittany and Artie came, you were telling me about your day, and… when I first came in you were crying, and I know Finn had just left because I saw him in the hall. Did he…" She could barely force the words out of her mouth. Quinn knew she might end up punching Finn, but she had to know. "Did he say something to you, or…?"

Rachel sat there staring at Quinn and her trailed off statement for a moment. "It was nice seeing Artie and Brittany today," she said, giving a half-smile before letting her face drop again. "I like them. Brittany's always been the nicest of the Cheerios to me…" she glanced up at Quinn, "until recently. And Artie's funny. I think they make a nice couple."

_Try telling Santana that_, Quinn thought but kept the snarky comment to herself. It was sad to see Santana pining so hard over Brittany and so angry that they weren't together. Not that she ever said anything outright. She hid it well, but Quinn was her best friend. The drunk calling at two in the morning wasn't about nothing. It was sad to see their friendship breaking down. Santana wanted more, but Brittany really seemed to be in love with Artie. "I guess, Rachel," she said, clearing away the thoughts of Santana and Brittany. "But what does that have to do with today?"

Rachel looked down, no longer wanting to meet Quinn's gaze. Her voice was unusually subdued when she spoke, even for this new melancholy Rachel. "I messed up with Finn. I loved him and I hurt him and I thought he would hate me forever. But today he showed up with that stupid stuffed gift shop bear," she pointed to the tear-wet bear sitting off to the side, " and he… he was fine. I wasn't the girl that he loved that tried to… that almost died. I was just this girl that he knew. I was the sad little girl from last year again, the one that was trying so hard to get him to love her, and I… I just can't."

Fat tears started to roll down Rachel's cheeks as she spoke, and Quinn wasn't even sure she was aware of their presence. Almost absentmindedly, she reached over and brushed her fingers over Rachel's, stroking the delicate skin not covered by the ligament brace. It was becoming second nature to touch her, to reassure her with that contact.

Rachel let out a sigh and wiped at her eyes with the sheet, knocking the stuffed duck from Brittany ("Bert", they had decided to name him) to the side. "I can't be her, not anymore. It's just so… _exhausting_… you know? But, if I don't have Finn… Quinn, do you think… Do you think anyone will ever love me again?"

Words, thoughts failed Quinn. She'd loved who she was… mostly, and she'd gotten the best parts of her pre-baby life back. For Rachel to say that she didn't want to be the old her anymore… she couldn't fathom it. Then she remember a conversation with Mr. Schuester from the year before, and… okay, maybe he was a better teacher than she gave him credit for.

"I made the Glist last year," Quinn blurted suddenly. Rachel looked up at her with a confused stare, and she suddenly cursed her apparently non-working brain-to-mouth filter. "I thought I had lost everything. My body, my popularity… I was captain of the Cheerios, president of the Celibacy Club, dating the quarterback of the football team. People would part like the Red Sea for me. Then, suddenly, I was invisible. I thought that if I made the Glist, I would get a bad reputation. That it was better than not having a reputation at all. When Mr. Schue confronted me about it, I asked him if he thought I could get it all back one day." Rachel looked at her expectantly, the same as she had looked to him. "He said no. Then he said that I could get something even better. And I have. And that's what I think for you."

"You think _what_ for me?" Rachel asked, getting upset. The sudden flip in emotions made Quinn nervous, and she slowly withdrew her hand from the bed. "I never had anything. Before all…" she motioned around at the hospital room, voice rising angrily, "all this, what exactly did I have? I didn't have any friends. My boyfriend didn't really like me. My parents were fighting all the time. My mother… well, I'd have to actually _have_ a mother to say anything about her. What exactly would I be trying to get back? Huh? You were the popular head bitch that got knocked up and lied about it. A year later, you're still the head bitch, just with a different flavor boyfriend. Iwas_ nothing_ last year. What _exactly _would I be trying to get back!?"

Quinn took a deep breath, pushing down the urge to fight back. It was there, Head Bitch bubbling at the surface, wanting to take the bait and fight her. Barring the recent encounter with Missy, she wouldn't call herself a violent person. Not physically, at least. Being a Fabray, though, she grew up learning just how to hurt someone with their deepest fears and darkest insecurities. Her words were like well placed blades that would rip someone to shreds if she let them. And it was taking all of Quinn's restraint not to do that to Rachel right now.

"Well!?"

Quinn took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second, forcing the insults that sprung to her lips back down. "Rachel," she said, opening her eyes. "First… you're not nothing. You're the most talented, most driven person I've ever met." Rachel started to protest, but Quinn held up a hand to stop her. "Please. Quid pro quo. You got to say what you wanted, now let me. And, like we agreed while ago, I'm being honest here." Rachel settled back down but crossed her arms as best she could, still looking angry. "You're my favorite singer. I know I used to make fun of your MySpace videos, but it's only because I hated you." Rachel looked hurt, but Quinn kept talking. They had to get through this.

"You can't really be surprised, Rachel," Quinn said. "Not after I told you about my dad. It wasn't just him, though. It wasn't your horrible clothes or your bossiness or your superiority complex. It was the annoying way you always picked yourself back up after we knocked you down. Every slushie thrown at you, every insult we hurled, everything. You kept going, like you knew something we didn't. Like you were better than us. Better than me."

Rachel was no longer angry, just curious. "I never thought I—"

"It doesn't matter," Quinn said, waving the comment away. "Because, in a lot of ways, you were. Everyone at that school bowed down to me. Everyone except you. And I hated you for it. I called you names and had you slushied and so many other things, and you… you just never broke. I'd never have admitted it back then, but I admired you for it. I cared so much, was worried so much, about what everyone else thought of me. But you never did."

"I cared," Rachel said quietly. "I cared a lot. I just wanted people to like me. I thought that if no one saw I was hurt, that they would think I was cool, too. All the girls that were mean to me, I just wanted to be friends with them. Especially with you. You were… are… so cool and so beautiful and everyone loves you. I wanted that. I thought that if I stood up to you, if I refused to bow down like everyone else… if I refused to be broken, then maybe you would like me, too."

"I guess that makes us both stupid, then," Quinn said with a chuckle. "And liars. To ourselves, to each other, to everyone. I want that to end, though. I promise from now on to always be honest with you, no matter what." She paused then, suddenly aware of what she was saying. She'd never been completely honest with anyone. She wasn't sure she could be. That wasn't how Fabrays were. _I mean, what if she asks about-_

Before she could tactfully take it back, Rachel was already agreeing. "I want that, too. I want to be honest with you, too." And, damn it, somehow the way Rachel was saying it, with that eagerness and that shy hope and that nervous smile… it made Quinn really want to do it, consequences be damned. She'd figure it out somehow.

"See, that's what I want for you," Quinn said. When Rachel gave her a confused look, Quinn added, "You're smiling." Rachel's smile evaporated once she realized she was doing it, and it hurt Quinn's heart. "That's what I was talking about. The stuff that I want you to get back, but better. Before all…" Quinn motioned around the room as Rachel had done earlier, "…all this, you had this drive, this… _zest_… for life. Like you could rule the world if you really wanted to. And now you're just… gray. I want you to get that back. I want to _help_ you get that back, if I can. When you're happy, you have the most amazingly beautiful smile, and, it's stupid, but I miss that."

Rachel blushed and looked away, and Quinn was mentally smacking herself in the forehead. She instantly heard her inner Santana quipping, 'Wow, your gay's really starting to show there, Q'. _Whatever, Santana's a bitch. Still, I should probably let Sam take me out to make up for that slipup._

They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither wanting to look at the other. Somehow in the span of a few minutes, they had each called the other beautiful. Quinn wasn't sure if Rachel had caught it, but as homo-aware as Quinn was, it hadn't slipped by her. She hadn't really thought much of it when Rachel had called her beautiful, but she really hadn't meant to say it about the other girl's smile. it just kind of slipped out. _Didn't make it any less true, though._ 'At least you didn't say sexy', inner-Santana said again, to which Quinn quickly responded with a _Go fuck yourself, S._

Rachel was the one to break the silence. "You put me at the bottom of the Glist," she said, finally looking up at Quinn with a smile that just barely reached her eyes. "-5, I think."

"Yeah, well, you were dating Jesse at the time," Quinn said, shrugging. "He was a douche bag."


	9. Chapter 9: Lucy

**Author's Note: I'm going to stop apologizing for the time between updates. It gets repetitive and a year from now when someone's reading the entire thing, it won't matter anyway. Just know that I love this story and I'll finish it, but I can only write when I'm inspired or motivated or when I really push myself. Reviews motivate me, though, and let me know that you guys are still interested in this story, so drop me a line if you're so inclined. As always, thanks for reading.**

* * *

Stopped at a red light, Quinn pulled her cell from her purse and dialed Sam. It rang twice before his familiar voice came on and said, "Kaltxì lor. Fyape nga?" If she'd been where he could see her, she might have arched a questioning eyebrow and stared at him. That usually got him to stop speaking Na'vi. Instead, she rolled her eyes and smiled at his sweet idiocy.

"I have no idea what that means, Sam," she said, not letting the humor into her voice. She didn't want to encourage him, even if it was kind of endearing. Other people thought it was nerdy, and Quinn couldn't have her boyfriend being a loser. Not when they were both lower than they should have been from being in Glee Club in the first place. "How is it you're failing Spanish but manage to speak that silly made-up language?"

Quinn knew she had probably hurt his feelings, but she wouldn't let herself feel bad about it. Instead she listened to his sigh through the phone as he changed his greeting to "Hey, beautiful. What's up?"

"Well, I was _hoping_ you weren't busy tonight," she said, her voice now all honey and satin. "I thought maybe you could buy me dinner and I could _try _to apologize for blowing you off Saturday night." She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was significantly quieter. "And for basically ignoring you since then."

"It's cool, it's cool," Sam said, somewhat seriously for him. "I get that you've been busy, you know… with Rachel." Then that ridiculously large smile was in his voice again. "And how could I ever pass up a dinner invite from one of my favorite girls?"

"One of?" Quinn asked, trying to sound playful rather than jealous. She was working on that. It was difficult after last year, with the whole Finn and Rachel thing, but… "Shouldn't that be singular?"

"Well," Sam said, chuckling, "I'd love to say favorite, but Stacey might get mad."

"Sam," Quinn said, unable to keep the smile at bay. "Your sister doesn't count."

"You try telling her that," Sam said as Quinn pulled into her driveway.

She sat in her car, not wanting to get out. It wasn't like she didn't want to be alone in that empty house while her mother was at work. Sometimes, as much as her mother was trying to smother her and make up for years of mistakes, she even preferred it. It was just the whole Rachel thing. It was invading her head and she didn't want to think about it right now. An empty house all alone on a Tuesday afternoon with her mom at work until that evening was nothing but free time to think about… everything, really. She needed a distraction.

"Sam," Quinn said, quietly interrupting whatever he was talking about and commanding his attention. "I hate that I've ignored you for the last few days, especially since I've been wearing your ring. I want to make it up to you. You should come over to my house."

"What?" Sam asked, slightly confused. "I thought your mom was working today. And didn't she say that I wasn't allowed over there when—"

"Don't worry about her," Quinn said simply. "She's going to be at work until six, so that gives us at least a couple hours to… _catch up_." She breathed the last two words into the phone and could hear the smile drop off Sam's face as his breathing picked up steadily.

"By 'catch up'…," Sam started hopefully as Quinn could hear him lick his suddenly dry, over-sized lips. "If that means what I've been hoping it means—"

"It can mean whatever you want it to mean," Quinn said, both husky and coy. "Come over as soon as you can. …Just don't drive _too_ fast getting over here," she added with a seductive chuckle. _Can a chuckle be seductive? Oh well. It was funny_, she thought, imagining a horny Sam running stop signs and red lights to get to her house in record time.

Quinn was about to end the call. She didn't need to hear him agree because she knew before she even said it that he would. She pulled the phone from her ear, her thumb nearing the button when she saw it.

"Love you, Quinn," Sam called through the phone line, but it barely registered.

The phone hung limply in her hand as she stared at it, the picture of her and Sam he had taken at Sectionals staring up at her. She used it as his contact icon that she'd see whenever he called. After their Sectionals win, they were back in the green room and Sam had snatched her phone away from her as Quinn was taking pictures of everyone. It was amazing that just an hour before it seemed that everyone had hated each other, and yet, after the win, they were all smiling and happy and congratulatory. She and Sam's duet had been amazing. Everyone could feel it. It was part of the reason they won. Tied. Whatever. They were so happy in that picture, at that moment. So what was bugging her?

"Quinn?"

She heard him call out again, tearing her from her thoughts. Right, right, he'd said he loved her. Again. Ugh. She put the phone back to her ear. "Yeah, I'm here. You, too, Sam. See you soon." She disconnected the call, and looked blankly out the window.

God, she felt like such a liar, but it was something a person got used to, eventually. She was born from a family of liars. Keep that perfect family image. Never let it falter. Happy perfect family. Loving wife, two perfect Christian daughters. Someone gets pregnant, remove them from the picture. That had been her father's lies. Quinn's were more self-oriented.

Be the perfect cheerleader Christian future prom queen. Never let them know that she was just a fat nerdy girl with acne and glasses. There never was a Lucy Fabray. She'd always been Quinn, the pretty popular cheerleader that everybody loved and respected and feared. Lucy was a ghost of an idea. Gone. Erased. Covered up by a cheerleader uniform and a frigid bitch attitude.

Lucy had been weak. She had loved, but it had never been returned. Quinn Fabray didn't love people; she slipped on relationships like clothes. She surrounded herself with friends, with Cheerios and with the Glee Club, because that's what pretty popular head cheerleaders had. Quinn Fabray had a boyfriend that she made out with and would have sex with eventually. Possibly today. Quinn Fabray had boys fighting over her. Quinn Fabray didn't need people. And she damn sure didn't help people.

Then what the hell was this whole Rachel thing about?

Quinn got out of her car, lost in her thoughts. There was something about the picture of her and Sam or something about the Sectionals pictures or… something. She couldn't remember. It was on the tip of her tongue, a faded memory, but of what she couldn't decide.

Before she knew it, Quinn was in front of her computer, staring at the wallpaper of her desktop. It was a picture taken after their Sectionals win the year before. They were all standing in the choir room with the Sectionals trophy. Mr. Schue was kneeling down in front with the trophy, the Glee club clustered behind him. Quinn had somehow been moved to the far left of the group beside Kurt. She couldn't remember which of them had suggested it, but she knew it had something to do with being as far away from Finn as possible. The baby drama was still too fresh for them to be near each other. At least she was able to hide her baby bump in the picture.

Moving down the line from Quinn was Kurt, and then to the left of him was Rachel. God, she looked so happy then. All bright eyes and beautiful smile, still energized from their impromptu performance for Mr. Schue, and… wow, had she actually grabbed Santana's hand in that picture? That was ballsy, even for Rachel. And yet, that would explain the full body check into the lockers Santana had given Rachel later that afternoon. Hmm…

Opening up files on her computer, Quinn found the pictures of this year's Sectionals win. She started with the group photo of them after the competition. Rachel seemed to have the same smile on her face as the previous year. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Knowing that it was only a month ago, though, she had to wonder if it was an act, or if it was genuine. Was that Rachel's last happy moment, winning Sectionals?

Clicking through pictures, she found the original of Sam's pic on her cell phone. She'd had to crop it to make it fit proportionally for her phone, and there had been a couple of people in the background cut out. Glancing closer at it now, though, she saw that it was Finn and Rachel. Finn looked to be mid sentence, but Rachel was facing away from him, almost looking into Quinn's phone. It was then that the pieces clicked into place.

Exiting out of that folder, she pulled up her C drive, opened a seemingly random file, another one, another one, until she found what she was looking for. There, hidden away in a file for printer drivers where no one else could possibly find them, were all the pictures she had of her nonexistent previous life, one Miss Lucy Q. Fabray.

Glancing through the icons, Quinn found the picture she wanted and clicked on it, opening it up so she could stare at the girl on her monitor. It had been taken at Johnny Appleseed Metropolitan Park one random Saturday during the spring of her seventh grade year. She had been forced to go to another of her father's boring work events that was supposed to be for the kids but was really just a way for them to network outside of the office. All Lucy wanted to do was stay at home and read, but her mother ended up guilting her into going. She was the oldest of the children there and tried playing with the younger kids, but they all wanted to run around the park and Lucy was too fat to play for very long. They ended up calling her stupid, childish names like all the idiots in her middle school did.

Her mother found her sitting behind a tree with her arms wrapped around her knees, crying quietly to herself. When Judy happened upon her, she merely thought her daughter was playing hide and seek with the other children. Thinking it was cute that Lucy was getting along so well with the other kids, she decided to take a picture. She snapped the picture just as Lucy looked up. That had been when she noticed the tears running down her face.

That look on her— on _Lucy's_ face, was the same expression Rachel wore in the picture of Quinn and Sam. How had she not seen it before? That was the look of someone that hated their life. Someone that said "I can't go on living this way". For Quinn, it had been the start of a year that included a major diet change, a nose job, and a new bitchy attitude. For Rachel it had been something worse.

The sudden sounding of the doorbell throughout the house brought Quinn from her thoughts. She looked over at the clock, thinking that surely Sam couldn't be there already, but, it must have been wrong or… _God, have I really been staring at these pictures for twenty minutes?_

She hopped up from her desk and went downstairs to the door, finding a nervously excited Sam Evans standing there. "Sam," she said, the barest hint of flirtatiousness in her voice. A smile graced her lips, and she did her best to push the thoughts of the pictures upstairs out of her head. "_So_ glad you could find it in your busy schedule to come over."

"I wasn't actually that—" he started to say before Quinn's lips cut him off. She pulled him close, losing herself in the kiss. Moving her lips against his, she had a sharp gasp of pain when he hit her busted lip, but Sam seemed to take it in stride and took the opportunity to shove his tongue into her mouth. In her head she counted to ten, getting over the pain _and_ the fact that he was so boldly trying to take command of this moment. Wasn't that the point, though? Wasn't Sam's purpose here to be a distraction? Someone to stop her worried mind from running on and on; thinking about Lucy, thinking about Rachel?

Lucy would have been in love with Rachel, there was no doubt about it. If for nothing else, Rachel was breathtaking, despite what Quinn and the rest of the Cheerios had told her. Her smile was beautiful; she hadn't been lying about that. Her hair was long and luxurious and she just wanted to run her hands through it, and God… those legs she showed off in those sinfully short skirts… Lucy would have worn a constant blush around her all the time.

It wasn't just the physical that Lucy would have been interested in, though. Rachel's smile wasn't just stunning, it was warm and inviting and Lucy had needed that. They both needed that; the acceptance, the friendship. Lucy also would have been intrigued with Rachel for the ways they were different. Where Rachel's knowledge of music and Broadway was probably encyclopedic, Lucy had been more into sci-fi, fantasy, comic books, and video games. Truthfully, the same things Quinn liked about Sam (though _no one_ could _ever_ find out) were the things she hated about Lucy. Lucy was such a nerd, but at least she was friendly. Rachel would have loved her. Middle school Rachel and Quinn would have been so cute together…

"Quinn?" Sam asked, pulling back from the kiss. "Are you okay?"

"What?"

"Are you…" he sounded worried, slightly unsure. "Are you, like, bored or…?"

"What? No. Why would you even ask that?" What the hell? Was he questioning her kissing ability? She arched an eyebrow at him and fixed a glare on him, impatiently waiting for his answer.

"Well, it's just that you weren't really, umm…" He looked nervous. "You just seemed distracted."

"Oh." _Damn it._ She guessed that was fair. She had been just thinking about Rachel and Lucy instead of focusing on her boyfriend and his amazingly soft, overly large lips. And, Jesus, he tasted like cherry. How much Chapstick did this boy use, anyway? "Sorry."

"It's okay, I just wanted—" But whatever he wanted was lost in Quinn mouth again as she brought him in for another kiss. This time she made sure to focus on Sam, because, again, this was her _boyfriend_. She shouldn't be anywhere else besides with him at the moment. _Lucy is long gone, anyway_, Quinn thought with an internal sigh.

Lucy had been a silly little girl with silly little girl crushes that were just… gross. And wrong. And another reason people would have laughed at her if they'd ever found out. Quinn had a boyfriend. A cute, sweet boyfriend who had amazing abs and shaggy hair and the nicest lips she'd ever kissed. Quinn was a woman in love, and Lucy had no idea what that word even meant.

'At least Lucy was honest with herself', Quinn imagined Rachel's voice telling her. Okay, so that was a new one. A not altogether unpleasant internal voice, until she factored in what her inner-Rachel was saying. 'Lucy would have admitted that the reason you're trying to help me now is the same reason you were so mean to me in the past. It has nothing to do with being compelled by God or atoning for what you feel bad about. It's about making it up to me.'

_Not everything's about you, Berry_, Quinn told her inner Rachel.

'No, but this definitely is. You focused on me way more than anyone else when you were bullying people. Did you used to go around and pull the other girls' pigtails when you were little, too?' And in her mind, Rachel was wearing that infuriating smirk of superiority like she knew she wasn't just right but _always_ right.

_I do not have a crush on you, Berry_, Quinn thought. She was being stupid, she knew that. Having conversations with herself, especially in other peoples' voices, wasn't exactly what someone would call "normal" or "healthy" or "sane", but Quinn had always done it. She felt it was probably some combination of reading too much when she was little and no longer writing. Writing stories was something nerds did, so Quinn had to give that up, even if she'd enjoyed it. So now, instead of putting dialogues down on a page, she had them in her head. _I'm currently making out with my boyfriend and not thinking about you, so shut it._

'You're making out with your boyfriend while thinking about me,_'_ inner-Rachel said. _'_And you don't see the connection? Lucy would punch you… if she wasn't so scared of you_.'_

_I said NOT thinking about you, and there is no connection. …And Lucy would thank me_, Quinn thought. She had everything that Lucy always wanted. Popularity, friends, a boyfriend on the football team. Well, okay, Lucy had never wanted that last one, but it was part of the Good-Christian-Head-Cheerleader-Fabray-Daughter package that Lucy had signed up for in becoming Quinn. She'd given up so many things from her previous life to model herself after her sister Frannie. Growing up, Lucy had, more than anything, wanted Frannie's life.

It had all come so effortlessly to the elder Fabray daughter. She was naturally thin and pretty with the perfect eyesight, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect life. She was the head cheerleader, the Chastity Ball Princess, the college graduate with the perfect husband. She was everything Russell Fabray had wanted out of a daughter. Everything that he wanted Quinn to be. Instead, for his second daughter, he'd gotten a chubby glasses-wearing nerd.

'At least she was honest,' inner Rachel fought back. 'Isn't that what you said you'd be with me? Honest? How can you be honest with me if you're not even honest with yourself? If I asked you what it was like growing up for you, what would you tell me?'

_Just, shut up, Berry_, Quinn thought, now pleading to get her thoughts under control. Why was it so hard now? Why couldn't she lose herself in kissing Sam like she had all those other times? She just wanted Rachel out of her head for now, for tonight. Let her lose herself in the physical so she wouldn't have to focus on the mental, the emotional.

Sam's hand glided across the smooth expanse of her abs under her shirt- _holy hell, when did we lay down on the couch_?- moving brazenly upwards, grazing the underside of her breasts. When Quinn didn't immediately remove his hand as she had a dozen times before, he boldly sent it higher until he was cupping a breast over her bra. The contact sent a pleasant shiver through her as she sucked on his tongue. The feeling intensified as his thumb grazed a nipple, and she had to bite back a moan that may or may not have sounded like a certain brunette diva's name.

_God, what is wrong with me? Why can't I just think about Sam, focus on Sam?_ Instead, she went through a subconsciously kept trove of mental images starring one Rachel Berry: the short skirts she wore to school; the way her ass looked whenever their costumes in Glee called for jeans; the makeover Kurt had given her last year; the… God, the Britney Spears outfit. Her mind played through the forbidden images as her body pulsed and hummed underneath Sam's amazingly talented hands.

'You know I don't actually look like that, though, right?' inner-Rachel asked. 'Not right now, anyway. And that smile you're picturing hasn't been there in months.'

She had a very sudden, very real image of Rachel lying alone in her hospital bed, how small and broken Rachel looked wrapped in a sheet in that room, eyes red and puffy from crying. She was so raw and angry and it was all Quinn could do not to hold her and whisper to her that everything was going to be okay… if, y'know, she was the type of person that did stuff like that.

But… what if everything wasn't going to be okay? What if Quinn couldn't make it okay for her? What if, no matter what Quinn did, Rachel still ended up doing it again? The doubts slammed back into her, and she started panicking. She pictured Rachel lying in the bathtub, covered in blood but, this time, without Quinn's timely intervention.

"I can't," Quinn said, hands on Sam's shoulders pushing him away from her. He pulled a hand from her jeans, and she barely registered the elastic snap of the waistband of her panties. "I can't do this. I can't. I'm sorry, I just… I can't."

"What, why?" Sam asked, sitting up, a little angry, a little disappointed. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to… okay, well, I did, but I thought you were cool with that. Isn't that why I'm here?"

"I can't stop thinking about her," Quinn said, ignoring whatever Sam was rambling about. "I thought this would get her out of my head, but I close my eyes and I see here there in the hospital and I just can't stop worrying about her. What if she tries it again? I know she said that she wouldn't but… but what if she does?"

"Rachel?" Sam asked, a little angrier now, finally getting what she was talking about. He tried not to let his hurt pride show, but apparently his skills at making out weren't enough to take her mind off of Rachel Berry. "You were thinking about Rachel while we were making out?"

_Okay, when he says it out loud, it sounds a lot worse than it really is_. It's not like she was actually thinking about making out with Rachel… except now that image was in her head, and _wow, that seems really— No. Just stop it, brain. You are not actually thinking about that. Answer his question_… "I'm just really worried about her. After what happened Saturday, I just—"

"What happened Saturday?" Sam asked, any traces of anger being replaced by curiosity. "I've heard all these rumors, but I haven't heard what really happened."

* * *

"Do you believe in God?" Quinn asked, sitting across the table from Sam while he chewed on a breadstick. After Quinn had put an end to their "activities", she'd decided to go back to her original plan and have him take her out to Breadstix. Quinn didn't want her mom to find him at their house, and she felt sitting in the darkening house with a frustrated Sam was a little more of a tease than he deserved.

Out in the light of day (and significantly less horny), Sam had finally noticed Quinn's injuries. Makeup mostly covered the bruise around her eye, but nothing could be done for her busted lip. Sam had been worried when he'd seen it, but Quinn had assured him that she'd given better than she'd gotten. After he was placated, he'd smiled and said it was hot, mimicking her words about his black eye from Karofsky. Sam had a way of doing that, of making her smile when she wasn't sure she could. If she had to be dating any of the football players, she was glad it was him.

Sam immediately choked on his breadstick, both coughing and trying to swallow. Okay, so maybe the question wasn't appropriately timed because, sure, they'd been sitting there in a comfortable silence (well, at least Quinn was comfortable with the silence) for a minute while he digested everything she'd told him about Rachel and what happened Saturday night. And, okay, maybe asking him such a deep question while he ate without any warning was a little much. She just needed to talk to someone about what she was thinking, and, thankfully, her boyfriend went to her church. Who better to talk about this with? But, wow, did he really need to make that big a scene of choking and gagging?

"I'm sorry?" Sam said, taking a sip of water and looking at her. "Do I believe—"

"Do you believe in God?" Quinn asked again, quieter. "Like really believe that there's a God and that He's around us doing stuff and all that?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," he said. "Where is this coming from?"

"I wasn't always sure I did," Quinn said. "I mean, I was raised Catholic and grew up in a family that's Christian, but then… I look at my father, and I see that some people just want to use Christianity as a weapon, you know?"

"Your father…?" Quinn hadn't been very specific in her details of the previous year to Sam. He knew from other members of the Glee Club that she'd been kicked out when her parents found out she was pregnant, and she'd been allowed to come back when her mom found out her dad was having an affair and threw him out. Other than that, Quinn wasn't exactly an open book with her past.

"That's not the point," Quinn said, waving a dismissive hand to dispel his unasked question. "I just… I've always believed there might be a God. And, when I had the baby and was able to give her to someone that I felt sure would be a good mother, I felt like there was _probably_ a God." Again Sam stared at her. If Quinn rarely mentioned her father, she _never_ mentioned the baby. "But this, with Rachel… I feel like God was guiding me that night. I hadn't looked at one of Rachel's videos in months, but I just happened to think about watching one minutes after she posted her… her last one? I mean, if I hadn't gotten there when I did, it might've… might've been too late, you know?"

"You saved her life," Sam said, reaching across the table for her hand. Quinn let him take it for a minute and give it a reassuring squeeze before she pulled back. He was being so kind and understanding, and she was rambling like Rachel usually would.

"I'm not so sure I saved her life," Quinn said, trying to shake that unnerving thought away. "Maybe I just prolonged it."

Sam looked confused, and this wasn't Finn's general look of 'I don't understand', but more of a 'That doesn't make sense' look. "That doesn't make sense," Sam said, and Quinn inwardly smiled at his predictability. Boys were easy. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"Not really." Quinn picked up a breadstick and started twirling it between her fingers. "If she doesn't want to live, then I'm not so sure I did a good thing."

"Then she needs something to live for, right?" Sam asked. "Something to look forward to, or something to enjoy, so that she doesn't feel like killing herself again." The casual way he said the words 'killing herself' had Quinn momentarily panicking, looking around the restaurant before shooting him a how-dare-you-say-that glare. Thankfully Sam was turned away at the time and didn't notice which was nice, because she was acting like a crazy person. If the Cheerios knew about Rachel, then the whole town knew.

Once Quinn was over her panic, though, the rest of Sam's words hit her, and she was remembering her idea from the day before. "I…" she started, looking down at the table and running a finger over the patterns on the tablecloth. "I did have an idea of something kind of like that. Something to make her want to… to live, I guess. I think it might be stupid, though."

Quinn raised her eyes to him, and he offered her a smile. "If you came up with it, I'm sure it's not stupid." Why'd he have to be so sweet about everything, damn it? Why couldn't he have been as obtuse and insensitive as Finn? Then she wouldn't have felt nearly as bad for using him, because she'd know, on some level, that he deserved it. And maybe Sam did deserve it. She knew that he was using her to be popular, at least a little. Why else date the head cheerleader if you weren't trying to be popular? It's not like she had anything else to offer.

So she told Sam about her plan for Rachel. It was simple, really. Just a couple of Christmas presents that she hoped would inspire Rachel to want to do more with her life than throw it away. Something to make her focus on the future rather than the past.

Rachel had always been focused and determined on her future. She was going to get out of this town and go be a Tony award winning Broadway star by the time she was twenty-five. See. Quinn really did listen to the diva, even if what she was saying made her want to punch her in the face sometimes… okay, most of the time. But that was the old Rachel, and Quinn wasn't exactly sure when that Rachel had changed into this current one. Had it really been since last year with the baby and Rachel's mom? Had she considered her life worthless then? Or maybe it had been more recent. Maybe it had only been in the last month, since Finn had broken up with her. Surely that wasn't a big loss. Finn was an idiot. A well-intentioned idiot most of the time, but still an idiot. Losing him couldn't have been what made her want to-

"Quinn?" Sam asked, breaking her away from her Rachel-centric thoughts. Again.

"Sorry," Quinn said, shaking her head. "I must have zoned out for a second."

"It's okay," Sam said, smiling. She could see that the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and his voice didn't sound quite as genuine as usual. She wasn't usually this distracted. She usually listened to every word he said, no matter how idiotic they might sometimes be, because that's what good girlfriends did. "I was just saying that that sounds like a really cool idea. I'm sure Rachel will love it."

They were silent for a few moments before Quinn asked, "Why do you think this happened?"

"I don't know," Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe she was depressed… though I guess she didn't really seem like it. A little down since breaking up with Finn, but she didn't seem—"

"No," Quinn interrupted, partially to keep him from calling her crazy. She felt the need to jab a butter knife into his chest if he said that, and that was probably one of the best ways to quickly ruin their date. "Why do you think this happened to me?" _Wow, way to make this about yourself, Fabray_. "I mean, why do you think I was the one that found her?"

"I don't know," he said again, chewing on a breadstick. "Maybe…" Sam drew out the word, thinking. "Maybe it's part of the whole God-works-in-mysterious-ways thing. Like he knew that you kind of owed her, so he had you be the one to find her."

Quinn arched an eyebrow, pointing an icy glare at him. "And what, _exactly_, is that supposed to mean?"

Sam was taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor. "N-nothing," he spluttered out around the breadstick in his mouth. He took the half eaten breadstick out of his mouth and laid it on the table slowly, all movements suddenly cautious. "I just meant that, you know, after all the stuff you did to her that—"

"What do you know about that?" she asked, eyes narrowing. Quinn knew she shouldn't be this mad. It wasn't exactly a secret that she'd been horrible to Rachel. For Sam to confront her with it, though, to say that she 'owed' Rachel? Sure it was the same things she was thinking, but he wasn't allowed to say it. _No one _was allowed to say it.

"Well, one of the first things you said to me was that you needed to find 'new ways to torture Rachel'," Sam said. "So I asked around and some of the guys in Glee said you were kind of horrible to Rachel the last—"

"And which of our fellow teammates told you that?" Quinn asked. She needed to know who to punish for running their mouths about her.

"Umm… Kurt, Mercedes, Santana, Artie, Puck… pretty much everyone." Sam said. God, how was he still talking? Did he not have even the smallest sense of self-preservation it should take to just _stop talking_? "But-but they also said that you haven't been as bad to her this year. That you haven't had her slushied or called her names or anything."

Quinn stared at him. Glared, really. She was getting angrier the longer she sat there, glaring at him. How _dare_ he go behind her back and ask those gossipy little idiots anything about her.

Never taking her eyes off of him, Quinn took the napkin from her lap, wiped her mouth once, then covered her half-eaten lasagna. "I think you should take me home now," she said quietly.

"What? Quinn, I didn't mean to—"

Quinn held up a hand, a finger, really, and silenced him. "I can't have this conversation with you right now. Please, take me home."

One ice-queen-head-bitch-death-stare from Quinn quickly got the waitress over, and Sam soon paid for the dinner and they were out the door. The ride back to her house was a silent, awkward affair.

Once they were parked in front of Quinn's house, Sam finally turned fully in his seat to look at her. "I didn't mean to piss you off. I'm sorry."

She was a silent for a long minute, hand on the door handle. Quinn stared out the window towards the front door of her house. There were lights on, so clearly her mother was already home. She just wanted to go inside, but if she left the car like this, that would just lead to Sam blowing up her phone with apology texts and voice mails. She needed to handle this now. "If you wanted to know something about my past, you could have just asked."

"I have. Repeatedly. You don't tell me anything," Sam said, trying to defend himself. "I've heard of people not being an open book, but… Jesus, Quinn. You're like a safe with a broken knob or something."

"Maybe there are things I don't want you to know," Quinn said, finally turning to face him. "Things I'm not proud of or things that are too sensitive to talk about. Did you stop to consider that?"

"No, not really," Sam admitted sheepishly. "But it's not like any of it was private information. I mean, it's stuff the guys in Glee know about. I'll hear them talking about how you were kicked out, or I'll hear Puck talking about Beth…" And for a second, Quinn had that familiar urge from earlier to jab a butter knife in his chest. "… and I'd feel like I was missing out on all this stuff about you. I'm your boyfriend. I should know as much as people at school."

"I'm wearing your ring," Quinn said, holding up her right hand and showing him the promise ring he'd given her. "Isn't that enough?" When Sam didn't answer, she added, "I don't know what you want me to do, what you want from me."

"Honesty," he said.

"I have been honest with you."

"Yeah, but you haven't been open," Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's like you lie by omission, which is just as bad as not being honest." The words hung in the air for a second, before he added. "I just wanted to get to know you better."

"And if I can't do that?" she asked before she could stop herself. This was like a continuation of her conversations from earlier with Rachel, and it was the same question she'd had then, too. "If I can't or won't tell you everything?"

God, why did everyone suddenly want her to start being honest? Her family had taught her for sixteen years how to lie and lie well, and now… now everyone wanted her to start being some kind of open, honest, over-sharing Rachel Berry? Except, as it turns out, not even Rachel Berry was a Rachel Berry. She kept her secrets, too, just like everyone else. Quinn had offered her honesty to Rachel because she needed it, and she'd truly wanted to help the girl. Now it seemed that Sam needed it too.

"If you can't be honest with me, then," Sam paused, shrugging and shaking his head. "…then I don't see how this relationship is going to work out."

Quinn looked up at Sam and their eyes met in the darkness of the car, holding each other's for a long time. Slowly, she slipped off the promise ring, going by feel as she didn't want to miss anything his eyes might say. She hoped he'd take the ultimatum back, but when it was clear he wasn't going to, Quinn took his hand and curled it around the promise ring he'd given her just a couple of months before.

"Then I guess we both need some time to think about things, then," Quinn said. She let go of his hands and left the car, striding towards her front door and letting herself in. She didn't look back to see if Sam had left. She didn't want to know.


	10. Chapter 10: Just Keep Swimming

**Author's Note: The only note for now is that I'm changing the rating of the story to T. I had it at M just to be safe, and I'll change it back if anyone complains or if the story gets to a place where I think it should be an M. After reading a lot of M stories, though, I feel pretty safe with saying it's not there right now. ****Other than that, please continue reading and enjoying. I love your awesome reviews. Waking up and checking my email and seeing new reviews or new follows or favorites is like Christmas morning.**

* * *

Cheerios practice the next day went by smoothly. Missy thankfully looked worse than Quinn did, and she glared the entire time, which made Quinn feel better. She also thankfully kept her mouth shut and Quinn didn't have to punish her especially. It could have had something to do with her punishment from Coach Sue two days previous. Apparently when the coach tells you to run suicides until she gets bored, she's only "not bored" once the person throws up or passes out. Missy did both. In that order.

After practice, Quinn approached a sullen looking Santana and an oblivious Brittany in the locker room. Like every practice, she'd waited until most of the girls were out before she even went into the locker room. Quinn liked to make sure the gym was clear and all equipment was packed away before going to shower and change. She could have made one of the other girls do it, but she liked the responsibility. Plus, that way she wouldn't have to shower with all the other girls. That had always made her uncomfortable. Santana and Brittany were used to her routine, though, so they usually stayed after everyone else to hang out. It didn't hurt that, before Artie, they used the extra time to _thoroughly_ wash each other in a far corner of the shower while Quinn pretended she had no idea what they were doing as far away from them as she could.

Quinn neared the silent pair and sat down heavily between them, sighing. They turned to her, concerned. Quinn Fabray did not do a melancholy sigh.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asked, immediately wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulders and pulling her in closer. The tall cheerleader was an excellent hugger and extremely (some, like Quinn herself, had often said _overly_) affectionate. Right now, though, it was exactly what Quinn needed.

She hadn't slept much the night before, thoughts of Rachel and Lucy and Quinn and Sam swirling around in her head. What the hell had she done? Had she actually broken up with Sam? No. No, they hadn't said the words, so it hadn't happened. Then what? Were they on a break? A time-out? And if so, why? Quinn didn't even know what she wanted at this point.

Before the previous Saturday, before Rachel had tried to… had tried what she did, Quinn had known exactly what she wanted. Hell, she _had_ exactly what she wanted. She was head Cheerio. She had a popular boyfriend on the football team. She was well-liked by most of the school. She was pretty and popular and poised to be the Prom Queen for the next two years. As long as she kept up the act, as long as no one found out that it _was_ just an act, she'd continue to have everything she wanted.

Seeing Rachel laying there in that bathtub, blood flowing out of her as she lay dying… Quinn suddenly found the act too difficult. What was the point of living a life that she didn't enjoy? She thought the popularity and the pretty would make her happy and, sure, they had for a while. Commanding the Cheerios and the few boyfriends she'd had since becoming Quinn had been fun. The fact that she could basically torture people, that she could become the bully rather than be the one bullied, and without repercussions- that had been thrilling. True, she'd given a lot of that up when she'd become the target during "BabyGate" the year before, but… seeing the same look on Rachel's face in the picture that she'd seen on Lucy's had truly killed whatever she had left of that feeling.

So now, Quinn was questioning everything because, if nothing that she had really mattered, then what should matter? What did she really want?

"I don't know," Quinn said. She couldn't share all these problems with Brittany and Santana. Brittany probably wouldn't understand, and Santana would just mock her. "I feel like… like sometimes I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Does this have to do with Sam?" Brittany asked, pulling back from her. "Because you two broke up?"

"Wait, what?" Santana said, turning to face them. "What the hell, Q?"

Quinn knew her face betrayed her shock. "How do you even know about that, Britts?"

"Sam changed his relationship status on Facebook," Brittany said with a shrug. "It went from 'In a Relationship' to 'It's complicated'. That's just something people usually put before they change it to 'Single'."

"I'll be damned," Santana said, looking down at her phone. While Brittany was talking, she had pulled it out and was already on Sam's Facebook page. "Trouty Mouth is totally on the market." She smirked for a moment with a devious look in her eyes before looking over at Quinn who was just staring down at her phone. Instantly, the smirk was gone. "I mean, uh, what happened, Q?"

"God, I don't even know," Quinn said, finally looking away from the Latina's phone, leaning down, and putting her face in her hand. "We just had a stupid fight over…" She sighed. "Over nothing, really. He just wanted me to tell him stuff about myself, and I was, I don't know-"

"Your usual closed-off self?" Santana offered with a smile. Quinn didn't even have it in her to get mad. She had planned on bitching them out for telling Sam all the stuff from her past, but she was just tired. Tired from the six hour practice, tired from not sleeping well the night before, and tired of worrying about Rachel.

"Yeah," she said with a sigh. Brittany pulled her in for another side hug, and she relished the contact. Hearing a matching sigh beside her, Quinn felt Santana pull in closer to the other two girls until they were all crushed up together.

"You know we're here if you need us," Santana said, and Quinn merely nodded, thankful for her friends. "Just let us know."

"I know," Quinn said. After a minute, once Santana had enough of what she called "that mushy emotional bullshit" and Quinn was able to shake Brittany off, she added, "Actually…"

"Damn it, Q," Santana said, making a frustrated noise, "That's just something people say. I didn't think you'd actually ask for anything."

"San…" Brittany whined, and Santana automatically looked apologetic.

"No, no, it's nothing major," Quinn said. "I just have something I wanted to get Rachel for Christmas, and I wanted your opinion on it."

"Pretty sure Berry's Jewish, Q," Santana said.

"That means she doesn't believe in Santa Claus, right?" Brittany asked. "Which is silly because you can totally see him down at the mall." Santana just reached across Quinn, smiling at the taller blonde and patting her hand.

"No, yeah, I _know_ she's Jewish," Quinn said, rolling her eyes at Santana and ignoring Brittany for the moment. "I just wanted to get her something that might make her feel better. See, I have this idea…"

It took a few minutes of explaining her idea to Brittany (who had a huge smile on her face) and Santana (who looked completely apathetic), but finally she finished. While she was talking she'd taken to pacing in front of them, and, finally silent, she stood still, looking expectantly at the pair. "Well…?"

"I think it's awesome, Quinn," Brittany said excitedly. "I know just the place you can go to get one. I think she'll love it because I really love mine. Oh, oh! Can I watch while you give it to her?"

"Wanky."

Quinn shot Santana a glare while the Latina just smirked back, then turned to face Brittany again. "I don't think so, Britts. I don't know how Rachel is going to react. She may be kind of…" She rubbed the back of her neck, looking up. "God, I couldn't even begin to guess how she'll react. But once I give it to…" Quinn paused and looked over at Santana who was still smirking. She went through a list of things in her head and realized the girl could probably turn all of them dirty, and Quinn really didn't need to deal with that on top of everything else. "…once I've made sure Rachel likes her present, then I'll text you and see if she minds if you come over to see it."

"Yay!" Brittany hopped up and gave Quinn a quick hug, squeezing the girl a little too tight before letting her go. They shared a smile and Quinn was suddenly excited about her idea. It seemed the taller cheerleader's enthusiasm was infectious. After a moment, they both looked over at Santana, who was busy staring down at her nails and ignoring them.

Feeling two sets of stares on her, she finally looked up. "What?"

"Tell her you think it's going to be a good idea, too," Brittany said. It was somewhere between pleading and ordering, and Quinn wasn't sure if it would still work on Santana. In the past, before Artie, Santana would have done whatever the tall blonde asked just to keep that sad pout off of her face. Now that Brittany was actually dating someone she cared about and Santana had lost her "sweet lady kisses"...? It seemed all three of them were still adjusting to this new dynamic.

"Honestly? I couldn't care less," Santana said. "It seems like kind of a stupid idea, trying to give Berry something to live for in the first place." Seeing the looks on Quinn and Brittany's faces (anger on Quinn's, hurt on Brittany's) she quickly backtracked. "I'm not Missy. I'm not saying I wish she was dead or anything. I just always thought she was tougher than that. I'm kinda surprised that Berry was weak enough to try and kill herself, and if she doesn't want to live, there's not a lot you can do to make her want to."

Quinn's face fell as Santana articulated her exact worry. That, no matter what, Rachel would still hurt herself again.

"Thanks, San," Quinn said, taking Brittany into her arms. The tall blonde looked even more worried than Quinn did. She patted Brittany's back and shushed her, turning the two of them so that she could glare at Santana.

"But, I mean, hey. What do I know?" Santana asked, raising her hands. With an aggravated sigh Santana stood up from the bench, clearly wanting this conversation behind them. "I'm going to take a shower. I suggest you two do the same. You bitches are starting to stink," she added with a smile. Brittany started laughing, and Quinn knew the taller blonde was already forgetting about the heaviness of what Santana had said moments prior. "Then, we can all go grab some burgers and hang at my house. We can do the Christmas movie marathon today, since we only have like three days left."

"Burgers, yes, but rain check on the movies," Quinn said, grabbing her bag and heading towards the showers. "I'm going to visit Rachel today."

"Again?" Santana arched an eyebrow, curious. "Haven't you been to see her every day since little miss Allyn King got there? Not like she's going anywhere, right?"

She usually got most of Santana's unnecessarily brutal references, but this time Quinn just stared blankly at her. "Allyn King?"

"Broadway actress, killed herself in 1930," Santana said. "Wikipedia is awesome. There's a whole list of famous suicides on there."

"God, Santana," Quinn said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Can you just… not?"

"I did research, Q," Santana said, as if that was an explanation. "I could have gone with something simple like 'Cathy Cuts-Herself', but, out of respect for you _and_ for Berry, I _actually_ did research. On my own time, mind you. You should be thanking me."

"Just…" She started to say something, anything to get the Latina to drop it, but Quinn honestly couldn't think of anything. Turning to look at the tall blonde, she gave her a pleading look. "Britt?"

Brittany stepped beside Santana and snuck an arm around her waist, pulling them together, foreheads touching. "Santana, be nice." Then quieter, she added, "Please?"

A sigh. A loud, frustrated, angry sigh. "Fine. You guys don't appreciate my hobbies, anyway." Thankful, Quinn started walking off towards the showers again until Santana's voice stopped her. "That still doesn't answer my question, Q."

Another frustrated sigh, this time from Quinn. She turned to face the pair who were still clinging to each other. "Yes, I'm going to visit Rachel today. Again. Yes, I've been to visit her every day that she's been in the hospital. And, no, she's not still there. They were supposed to release her this morning, and I… I just wanted to see how she's doing back at home, I guess." She stared at them, waiting to see if they were going to ask anything else. When they didn't, she turned back towards the showers, choosing her usual one as close to the front of the shower room as she could.

After a few minutes, Quinn heard them enter together, though she only heard one shower starting up rather than two. Once she heard the quiet giggling between the two girls, Quinn shook her head. _Poor Artie_, she thought. _He really doesn't stand a chance_.

* * *

Quinn pulled into the Berry driveway a little after three, happy and full from the burger and the basket of cheesy fries Brittany and Santana had talked her into getting and sharing. She stared at the house, thinking about the rush to get there the last time she'd been. It was nice to actually take her time today and appreciate the drive over, as well as the chance to check out the Berry residence in the day time.

It was actually a lovely house. Beige with white trim, three car garage. A white mailbox out front with strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries painted on the sides with the words 'The Berrys' in black. It was cute. The kind of place that bespoke a different life than the one Rachel Berry actually lived. Quinn could sympathize with that. The Fabray house had been perfect looking, both inside and out.

Quinn got out of her car and walked towards the house, though approaching the door filled her with trepidation. Hiram and Leroy had been kind to her in the hospital… eventually. But what if they had changed their minds about her now that things were starting to return back to normal?

It had taken a lot of talking the night of Rachel's attempt for them to actually start to trust her. They'd been reluctant at first, as Quinn had been the one to bully Rachel the most in the past. Somewhere between saving Rachel's life and sharing the way Russell Fabray had raised her to hate the Berrys, and how he'd then turned on her also, she had won them over. They weren't exactly doting on her or anything, but at least they weren't turning her away. Now, though, after things were getting back to normal, would they still allow her to see Rachel? Would she be allowed to be Rachel's friend?

She pressed the doorbell button and waited, hearing the musical notes wafting through the house again, able to appreciate them more now. Quinn had to forcefully tell herself that nothing was going to be wrong this time when the door opened. No one would be wishing to die. No one would be bleeding to death. They were just a family trying to pick up the pieces. She heard hurried footsteps behind the door, then it was yanked open and Leroy stood on the other side.

"Hi, Leroy, I was just-"

"Quinn Fabray," he said, a harshness in his voice that she hadn't heard in the time that she'd known him. Truthfully, it was the reception she'd been expecting before meeting him, but the pleasantries of the last few days had lulled her into thinking it wouldn't happen. "Now's not a good time. In fact, I don't think there's going to be a good time for you, Miss Fabray. It'd probably be best if you left this house and left Rachel alone. Completely."

"I'm… sorry?" She looked up at him, puzzled. Quinn noticed he had a phone in his hand and a dish towel slung over his right shoulder. Looking into his eyes though, she saw worry and anger and disappointment and a myriad of other emotions. "I don't understand. Is something wrong? Is something wrong with Rachel?"

"She's fine," Leroy shot out a little too fast for Quinn to actually believe it. He stood to his full height and looked down at her, literally blocking her entrance to his home. "But you should leave. Now. Your presence is no longer wanted here in my house or in the company of my daughter. "

"I'm sorry, Mr. Berry," Quinn said, bubbling bitchiness starting to get the best of her. "Have I done something wrong? Something to upset you or Hiram or Rachel? Because the only thing I've done since I've known you is _save your daughter's life_ and try to be her friend, and you're treating me like..." She stopped, the reality of the situation finally hitting her. He'd found out. Rachel had finally told her parents. That was the only thing it could be. Her shoulders crumpled with the realization, and she added softly, "You're treating me like I did this to her."

"Are you saying you didn't?" Leroy asked, still angry and staring her down.

"Is this what Rachel wants?" Quinn asked, suddenly unsure of… everything. "Did she… did she ask you to get rid of me? Because I thought she forgave me. I mean, she didn't say the words, but she wasn't getting rid of me like she did everyone else. She said… she said I make it better. That I make it easier for her to, I don't know. Be alive? To have survived? I thought I was helping…"

She trailed off, looking down at the wooden porch planks, and Leroy just stared at her. The anger had left his eyes, though. Now he was just taking her in as she stood there, lost in her own thoughts. "Quinn," he said, the timbre softened in his voice. "You should go. It's for the best."

She looked up at him and nodded resignedly. "You're probably right. I just… would it be okay if I said goodbye to Rachel one more time? I won't bother her after that."

He glanced behind him at the staircase, then down to the phone still clutched in his hand. "Right now really isn't a good time, Quinn," he said. "I was just about to call Dr. Richards. Rachel's having some kind of breakdown, and I… I don't know what to do." Quinn tensed, concern for the brunette washing over her. "She won't take her medicine, and she's been crying in her bathroom for the last hour and a half."

"What happened?" Quinn asked.

"I don't know," Leroy said tiredly, running a hand over his face. He was clearly stressed and concerned about his daughter. He started walking back into the house, and she closed the door, following him when he stopped in the living room. "After we brought her home, we took her up to her room, and she stopped and stared at the bathroom. We asked if anything was wrong, but she didn't respond. She just walked into the bathroom, looked around, made this kind of… moan… and just fell to the floor and started sobbing."

"Was there anything different about the bathroom?" Quinn asked, trying to think what could cause Rachel such grief. She couldn't remember going into the girl's bathroom that night to steal one of Rachel's ridiculous animal sweaters to replace her own bloodied one. "Something that would have set her off?"

Leroy looked away from Quinn, back towards the staircase again, then back at her. The worry was clear on his face. "Well, I mean, we had to- I had to suicide proof it, of course. And I cleaned it for her."

"And do you think that would have set her off?" Quinn asked out of genuine concern, but her thoughts weren't really on it. In the forefront of her mind, she was already going through things that might make Rachel feel better based on what she knew about the girl. They'd talked about music being important to Rachel, so her first thought was distracting her with watching a musical, but it just didn't seem the right thing for her now.

"No," Leroy said. "Or, at least, I wouldn't think so. We talked to Dr. Richards together about suicide proofing the house." Quinn closed her eyes and absentmindedly rubbed an eyebrow, thinking about Rachel. When she didn't respond, Leroy added, "I doubt it will help, but Hiram just went down to the Whole Foods to get her a pint of ice cream to try and cheer her up."

"Ice cream?" Quinn asked. "Isn't Rachel vegan?"

"It's not actually ice cream," Leroy said with a sad smile. "It's this coconut milk ice cream thing that they like." The smile that was there left his face. "But we were arguing before he left. I thought we should call Dr. Richards, but he just wanted to try and cheer her up." Leroy rubbed his face with his free hand. "I was trying to call him before Hiram got back."

"Don't," Quinn said quickly. "Let me try to get through to her." Leroy looked like he wanted to argue with her, too, but she quickly cut him off. "I know I'm not who you really want around Rachel right now, but… She told me when I was visiting her at the hospital that she was worried about being locked up _like a crazy person_." Seeing the look on Leroy's face, she quickly added "Her words, not mine. I don't know if Dr. Richards would do that or not, but I have to imagine that if she's refusing to take her meds, then he might see that this isn't the right place for her right now. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Leroy reluctantly said through clenched jaws. Quinn could see where Rachel got her hatred of losing arguments, and it made her want to smile if the situation didn't suck so much. "What did you have in mind?"

"Does Rachel have a favorite movie?" Quinn asked, thinking what cheered her up when she was depressed. Usually, it was watching her favorite movies with Brittany and Santana. "Something that's not a musical?" As an afterthought, she added, "And not romantic."

"Uh…," Leroy started. "That's… musicals and romantic comedies are the ones she usually picks for our movie nights. I know when she was younger, she really liked the Disney movies, but most of them are musicals, too."

Disney movies? Of course Rachel Berry would be all over those. Some of them were actually pretty good, though. Especially… "What about the Disney/Pixar ones?" Leroy just stared at her blankly. "Toy Story? The Incredibles? Finding Nemo? Up?"

"Wait, Finding Nemo?" Leroy asked. "Is that the one about the fish?"

"Yes."

"Okay, yes," Leroy said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Rachel used to love that one. Went around for days calling me Marlin and Hiram Dory. It used to make him so mad," Leroy laughed. "Being called a girl's name. He eventually had to take her aside and remind her that it mean to call people names that they didn't like. She still watched it at least once a week for a while."

Quinn chuckled at the image, picturing a younger Rachel annoying her dads by calling them names from the movie. "Okay, that should definitely work. Would it be upstairs in Rachel's room, do you think, or…?"

"No, we keep all our movies over here on the shelves," Leroy said, leading her to a huge set of shelves beside an entertainment center and ridiculously sized, wall-mounted television.

"Do you mind if I…?"

"No, no," Leroy said quickly. "If you think it'll help Rachel, then by all means."

Quinn scanned the shelves which were, of course, alphabetized by genre. She wondered if Rachel had done that or if that OCD level of order was a Berry family trait. Looking through the movies, she found a section that must have been 'kid's movies' or 'cartoon movies' because they had nearly ever Disney movie made. She found the one she was looking for and pulled the case down, opening it to make sure the movie was in there. It was probably silly, seeing the level of organization, but it was a habit from being over at Santana's. Quinn couldn't take finding another sex tape hidden where it shouldn't be… though, she did have to give credit to Santana's parents for keeping the romance alive.

"Where are the pills she needs to take?" Quinn asked, tucking the case under her arm. She followed him into the kitchen where Leroy handed her two pill bottles, explaining that she gets one of the antidepressants every eight hours and one of the antianxiety pills as needed.

"We always give her a cup of water when she's upset, but she wouldn't even touch it," Leroy said as he showed her where they kept their glasses, cups, and mugs. Quinn remembered. It was one of the things they had talked about on the two and a half hour drive back from Carmel the year before when they had been spying Vocal Adrenaline and had seen Rachel's mom. She looked into the cabinet, bypassing the glass with the star on it. Rachel had been so proud when Shelby had given that to her. That was before the adoption, though.

Reaching in, she pulled out a tall drinking glass, but Leroy stopped her. "That's… we're worried about her having glass," he said hesitantly. "She might try to cut herself again, and…"

"It's fine," Quinn said, understanding. She didn't think Rachel would try and cut herself again, but remembering what the girl had looked like that night, she didn't want to take the chance. Putting the glass back in, she pulled out a plastic cup, went to the sink, and filled it most of the way with cold water.

Once Quinn had pocketed the pill bottles and had her hands full, she looked over at Leroy and tried to offer up a smile. "I have no idea if this is going to work or not," she said. "But I'm hoping it will. If I can't get her to calm down enough to take her pills, I'll come back down here and you can call Dr. Richards." She was a cheerleader, a motivator of people. She _should_ be able to convince this man that she could make his daughter better, and she _should_ be able to calm Rachel down and get her to take her pills. Isn't that what she had sworn she would do? She would help Rachel get better.

Quinn headed upstairs, cup of water in one hand, DVD case in the other, pill bottles causing a tight front pocket to bulge. She stopped outside Rachel's opened door, looking in, forcibly shaking the memories from her head of the previous Saturday. She reminded herself that the phantom blood she felt on her shirt wasn't really there, but still looked down to prove it to herself. Nothing there but the clean, fresh sweater and jeans she had put on after Cheerios practice. She missed the variety the dresses she usually wore allowed her, but the middle of December was far too cold for that. It amazed her that more of her Cheerios didn't get sick, having to wear their uniforms throughout the school year. Maybe there was something to the Sue Sylvester Vitamin Regimen the coach had them all on.

Walking through the door, Quinn quietly made her way to the bathroom, pausing only to place the DVD case on the bed as she walked by. At the doorway of the bathroom, she looked down at Rachel laying there on the floor, clutching a fluffy pink bathrobe like a security blanket. The fragility she showed in that moment somehow endeared her even more to Quinn than anything had at the hospital. Maybe it was the lack of the ever-present nurses that had watched over Rachel that made Quinn feel more responsible for the girl. Whatever it was, Quinn again felt that familiar pull like _she_ had to be the one to take care of Rachel. _She_ had to fix this.

"Hey, Rachel," Quinn said quietly, walking in. The girl looked up with the tracks of dried tears evident on her face before shaking her head and burying her face back in the robe. If she hadn't been so obviously cried out, Quinn knew the sight of her suddenly appearing there would have brought a fresh wave of tears. She wasn't sure why… yet… but she knew she would probably know before she left the house that day. She just hoped it wasn't her fault, though Leroy's reaction suggested otherwise.

Sitting the cup of water on the bathroom counter, Quinn stepped around Rachel's prone form, stopping to tear a couple of squares of toilet paper from the roll hanging next to the toilet, folding them, and placing them on the floor at Rachel head. Reaching into her pocket, she opened both bottles of pills and placed one of each on the folded toilet paper. She then reached back to the counter, grabbed the cup of water and placed it beside the pills on the floor.

"Rachel," Quinn started again gently, kneeling now beside Rachel. She reached out and rubbed her shoulder, and the physical contact caused Rachel to look up at her again. "I know that whatever's wrong, you probably don't want to talk to me or anyone else, and I get that, but you need to take your medicines. The blue one is the antidepressant, and the white one is the antianxiety." With one last pat on the arm, Quinn stood, looking down at the broken diva whose eyes followed Quinn around the room. "I'm going out there to your bedroom to watch Finding Nemo, because I haven't seen it in years. If you'd like to talk, or _not_ talk if you'd prefer, you're welcome to join me, but only if you take your pills."

With that, Quinn turned and left, going back into the bedroom. It felt kind of bitchy to order someone around like that in their own room, but she really did feel it was the right move for Rachel. The girl needed someone to get her to do what was needed, and clearly her fathers weren't up to the task.

Setting up the movie was simple, as Rachel was the type of girl that labeled things like her remotes. Putting the movie in the DVD player, Quinn walked over and sat on Rachel's bed, sitting back against the headboard. She hadn't really thought much about the bed the first time she'd been in the room, but now, sitting there, an image popped into her head of a picture. Much like the pictures of Lucy, it was also hidden on her computer's hard drive in a random place that hopefully no one would ever find. Unlike the pictures of Lucy, though, Quinn often found herself coming back to this picture.

It wasn't like Quinn was gay. Being gay was a choice, like lying or murder or any other sin, and she made the choice every day not to be gay. It was easier this way. She couldn't be the pretty popular cheerleading prom queen if she was some big gay lesbian. Quinn considered it another part of Lucy that she'd had to give up, like the comic books and video games. Besides, if someone as "badass" as Santana was too big of a coward to come out of the closet because of how they'd be treated -_just look at what happened to Kurt_, Quinn thought- then what choice did Quinn have? She'd already lost her father by getting pregnant, even if he was a judgmental asshole. She couldn't bear to lose her mother, too.

So even though she may have had completely inappropriate thoughts about girls sometimes, Quinn buried those deep down under mountains of willpower and routine. If she didn't want to have thoughts about naked girls, she wouldn't shower with the rest of the cheerleaders. If she didn't want to talk about making out with girls with Santana and Brittany, she'd just say how sick it made her and how wrong it was. If she didn't want to think about Rachel half-naked and masturbating on the very bed she was now sitting on… and yet she kept finding herself thinking about the picture secreted away on her hard drive.

Quinn let out a sigh as the movie started, because that Rachel, the one that Lucy would have had a huge crush on, and the one in there on the bathroom floor… they weren't exactly the same Rachel, were they? That Rachel had been fearless and happy and was going to be a huge Broadway star one day that Quinn could point to and say 'I knew her back when'. This Rachel was sad and broken and medicated, and Quinn had no idea how to get her back to her previous self. All she could do, all she knew to do, was what seemed like a good idea at the time. And right now, that involved trying to forget about all three: the broken girl, the happy girl, and the sexy half-naked girl… and just try to focus on watching the movie.

It wasn't until Nemo's mom and brothers and sisters died that Quinn heard any movement in the bathroom, and that included letting the previews play on the DVD rather than skipping them. Hesitant footsteps. Running water. Rummaging around. Quinn listened intently as she watched the movie.

By the time Nemo was swimming out to touch the "butt", Rachel was standing there in the doorway of the bathroom, looking nervously at Quinn. Quinn took her eyes off the screen and looked over at her before giving her a half-smile and patting the spot next to her on the bed. Rachel walked over cautiously, and it was just odd to see her being so shy and uncertain in her own bedroom. Maybe it was the fact that Head Bitch Ice Queen Quinn Fabray was sitting on her bed watching a Disney movie that made it so surreal. Whatever the reason, seeing Rachel act like some nervous Bambi in her own room made Quinn's lips twitch up into a smile, partly because it was simply adorable of Rachel, and partly because some small part of Quinn just liked making people nervous when in her presence.

Eventually, Rachel came over to her bed, pulling back the covers and getting under them and sitting beside Quinn with her back up against the headboard. Quinn copied her, standing long enough to get the covers up on her side before getting underneath them and pulling them up to her chin. She used to watch movies the same way when she was a little girl, and she again found herself thinking Rachel was adorable for doing it. As much as she wanted to keep thinking things like that about Rachel, though, she needed to know.

"Did you take your pills?" Quinn asked, turning slightly to look at Rachel. She stared at the side of the girl's head until she nodded. Good. Maybe she could get back into Leroy and Hiram's good graces by doing for Rachel what they couldn't. Maybe that way, they wouldn't hate her as much, and they could at least get back to the level of civility that they'd had that first night at the hospital. "And did you want to talk?" There was more she wanted to say, more questions she wanted to ask, but whatever was in her that felt compelled to help Rachel was putting the broken girl's needs first and thankfully keeping her silent.

Rachel only shook her head and continued staring at the television screen and so they sat there in silence, watching the movie. Quinn was glad this was one of Rachel's favorite movies, as she hadn't had a chance to see it again since seeing it in theaters when she was younger. That was back when Frannie had still lived at home, and the Fabray family would often go out for family evenings. They'd often see movies together or go bowling or play miniature golf. Something the family could do together.

_Those days are gone, though_, Quinn thought, letting out another sigh. Back then, she'd thought her father was always right, that he'd always love her, and that her family would always be together. Now it was just her and her mom, as her father was who knows where and she hadn't spoken to her sister since Frannie had called to condemn her for being pregnant. That last phone call in which Frannie had urged Quinn to go begging and pleading back to their parents, which she had refused to do.

At first it had been pride that prevented Quinn from following Frannie's advice. Once Be… the _baby_… had started moving inside her, though, and she realized what it meant to be a parent and to love someone more than yourself… she knew she would never go back asking to be a part of their lives. They had clearly failed as parents if they didn't have the same bond with their daughter which they'd known for seventeen years that Quinn had with a baby that she'd only known for a few months. It was only her mother's promises to get and stay sober and for them to attend family therapy, both of which she'd kept, that got Quinn to come home.

Though Judy still struggled with sobriety every day and was thankful for the weekly AA meetings that Quinn still made sure she went to, it was the therapy that had really saved them. There had been a lot of tears and accusations and bashing of Russell Fabray during those weekly hour-long sessions. Quinn got a better sense of the woman Judy had been before and during her marriage to Russell, and Quinn was able to deal with her own issues with being kicked out, being a pregnant teenager, and giving up a child. She even went to her own private therapy sessions for a little while to deal with these, as well as getting prescribed some antidepressants for the postpartum depression. When she'd let slip to Jacob Ben Israel's stupid video blog at the beginning of the school year that she was crying a lot less, she been truthful about that. That lecherous Jewfro'd moron had been more interested in Santana's chest than Quinn's mental state, thankfully, and, even better, Brittany had jumped in with that nonsense about being lost in the sewers to distract him away from the both of them.

Bringing Quinn's mind full circle, she noticed that Brittany's ditzy good-heartedness was a lot like Dory's, and she had to remember to thank Britts for being the Dory to her Marlin. Actually, she was pretty sure if she phrased it just like that, Britts would totally get it on the first try.

"The bathroom was where I was going to do it," Rachel said, still staring at the television. On the screen, the fish in the tank were trying to make the tank dirty before Darla got there, and Nemo was again attempting to jam the filter. Grabbing the remote in front of her, Quinn paused the movie, and it sat on the fish in the tank pushing a plastic flower into a water tube. Quinn wasn't sure if Rachel realized the movie was paused, or if she'd even been watching the movie at all. Her voice was monotone and detached, slow and deliberate, and she just stared ahead blankly as Quinn watched her.

"I had it decorated. There were candles on the counter and rose petals in the bathtub. It was going to be beautifully tragic, like something out of a movie or a painting. My daddy would come home eventually, and he'd be confused because it was so quiet when the house should be full of girls. He'd look around the living room and the kitchen, then make his way up to my room. He'd look in and see the candlelight reflected from the bathroom, and then he'd come in and see my lifeless body. The white dress marred with blood, symbolizing my unrealized future. There were notes left for everyone explaining it all. One for my fathers, telling them that this should be the catalyst that gets them to reconnect and renew their love for one another. One for Shelby, telling her that she needn't worry about this daughter that she was losing since she'd already replaced me anyway. One for Finn, telling him how sorry I was for cheating on him and telling him that I'd love him forever and that I'd always watch over him. One for the Glee club, apologizing that I wouldn't be there for Regionals, and suggesting song choices and who might be the best to sing them. And lastly, there was one for the student body in general that was supposed to go to Jacob Ben Israel so he could post it on his blog. It was a list of people who'd bullied me and what they'd done. I didn't really blame them for this, but I thought that if they thought they were responsible, then maybe some of them would know there are consequences to their actions and maybe they'd change for the better." Rachel stopped, still staring at the screen.

"That's… I'm sorry, Rachel," Quinn said after a moment, patting her hand with the brace that was sitting on top of the covers. "I can't imagine… I don't know what to… I'm sorry."

Rachel sniffed, starting to cry again, and Quinn scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her away from staring at the television. Once her eye contact from the frozen screen was finally broken, Rachel turned into Quinn's embrace as the cheerleader's arms encircled her fully. She started crying harder, and Quinn just held her, rubbing circles into the girl's back and speaking low soothing words that didn't have any meaning outside of the boundary of her arms.

Eventually Rachel calmed enough to start talking again, though she never left the blonde's embrace as she spoke, and Quinn had to struggle to understand her as she was partially muffled by having her face buried in Quinn's sweater at the crook of her neck.

"When I came home today, everything was okay. Not okay, like it was suddenly all better, but okay enough, I guess. I came up to my room, and it looked like things had been moved around some, but Dr. Richards had talked to us about 'preventative measures' at home. Temporarily suicide-proofing my room, the bathrooms, the rest of the house. I hadn't thought about it at the hospital besides being embarrassed. When I got home, though, and got up to my room, and then into the bathroom, I finally realized it. The bathroom was completely clean. Everything I'd set up, the rose petals, the candles, the… the letters. The letters were gone, and I knew they'd read them. Not Dad, he didn't know, but Daddy… I could see it in his eyes when I looked at him. And everything just hit me again, and I… I couldn't…"

Quinn shushed her again, squeezing her a little tighter, rubbing her back a little firmer. She didn't know what she was trying to convey, but she hoped, whatever it was, that it was getting through. That it was helping. Rachel, for her part, seemed to be resting in her arms, taking in the unspoken comfort that Quinn was offering. She clung to the cheerleader, nuzzling into her neck in a way that had Quinn desperately trying not to think the wrong thoughts.

After a few minutes of just holding her, Quinn thought again about the reception she'd received at the door. "That would explain it, then," Quinn mumbled to herself. Finally Rachel shifted in her arms, pulling back just enough to turn to her with a confused look. Quinn sighed. She hadn't meant to let that slip out. "When I came over today, Leroy wasn't exactly as welcoming as he was at the hospital," she explained. "I figured he'd found out about everything, I just didn't realize how."

"You thought I told him?" Rachel asked, a slight look of hurt crossing her face at the realization. "You thought I told him about how horrible you were to me." It wasn't a question anymore. "After I… after I agreed we could be friends?"

"Yeah," Quinn said, feeling guilty about doubting Rachel. "I'm sorry."

Rachel was quiet for a long time, looking down at the neckline of Quinn's sweater, eyes focused on the silver cross dangling there. The moment seemed to stretch out forever, and Quinn was afraid to move or make a sound so as to not disturb whatever was going on in Rachel's head. Finally, the brunette looked up at her, and her chocolate colored eyes shone with something Quinn couldn't seem to understand. "I forgive you."

Quinn smiled playfully, hoping to lighten the suddenly serious mood now that she had a chance to respond. "I wasn't too worried about it," she said with a chuckle. "I mean, I didn't know about the letters, so it made sense to think that you had-"

"No," Rachel said, her quiet voice bringing Quinn's words to a halt. "At the hospital, you apologized, and I… I forgive you. For everything. For all the pranks and the insults and slushees and everything else since we met. You're not the same person that did all of that, and you've apologized for it, so I forgive you."

"Rachel, don't," Quinn said, finally releasing the brunette from her embrace. She was purposely not going to think about how empty her arms felt now that she wasn't holding her. "You shouldn't. I don't deserve that. I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"I don't care," Rachel said. "You apologized, and I want to forgive you. I'm tired of everything bad that's been between us. I'm tired of doubting you. For the past…" She paused, counting. "Four days? Has it just been four days? It feels like so much longer." Quinn nodded, agreeing, and Rachel went on. "For the past four days you've done nothing but be nice to me and be my friend, genuinely, when no one else has." Here Quinn wanted to argue with her, seeing as the other members of the Glee Club had gone to visit her in the hospital the previous day, but Rachel was complimenting/forgiving her and actually starting to sound like her old self a little, so she let it go. "So I forgive you."

Quinn stared at her, looking deep into the coffee-colored depths of her eyes, and saw the truth in them. She really did forgive her for everything, just like that. Smiling, Quinn pulled Rachel back into her again, hugging the girl, a quiet tear slipping down her own face. She never thought she'd apologize to Rachel, never thought she'd care if Rachel forgave her, but now that she had it…? "Thank you."


	11. Chapter 11: Berry Family Dinner

**Author's note: This is the first time I've put an author's note before actually finishing writing the story. I just wanted to explain that Rachel (in my opinion) has always been more dramatic (obviously) and a little crazier than Quinn, and I tried to reflect this when writing from her point of view (some of this may come from reading ElsBells AMAZING "Just off the Key of Reason" and its sequel "Still off the Key of Reason" which everyone should read if they haven't). Also, she's on some mood altering medicines (which I know NOTHING about, so I'm basically making it up to suit my purpose), AND she's just gone through a life-altering event. The reason I say anything is because I didn't have her like this in the hospital the couple of times I wrote from her POV, and I didn't want it to seem like I was suddenly changing her character or anything. To me, this is more like Rachel trying to be her normal self again. Also, I know what a run-on sentence is, and that they're bad, but I think Rachel would probably think in them (though her use of parentheses she totally got from me).**

**Secondly, I love milestones. This chapter puts this story over 50,000 words, and that is just awesome to me that people are still reading it. I also recently got over 100 favorites on this story. And, if I could get just 3 more reviews, I'd have 100 reviews for this story. (*hint, hint*)**

**Thirdly, Happy Easter, if you celebrate that sort of thing like I do. I know I was cutting it close, at least on east coast time, but I think I made it. If I didn't, or if I didn't where you live, pretend I did anyway.**

**While I'm leaving an apparently huge author's note, let me say this: this is my longest chapter so far, but there were definite places I could have cut it into two or maybe even three chapters. Do people like the longer, less frequent chapters, or would people rather have shorter chapters more often? Discuss amongst yourselves and let me know.**

* * *

"That's not going to help, Hiram," Quinn heard Leroy say condescendingly as footsteps started up the stairs. As soon as she heard the first one, Quinn was out of Rachel's arms, pushing away from her on the bed, and putting a considerable amount of space between them. Quinn noted the look of hurt cross her face, but she couldn't help it. "We should just go ahead and call Dr. Richards."

"Nonsense," Hiram said as their voices got louder, approaching Rachel's room. "This always snaps Rachel right out of her blues. She just needs to know we ca-"Hiram paused as he and Leroy reached Rachel's doorway, seeing Quinn and Rachel looking back at them. He clearly wasn't expecting for his daughter, who had been uncontrollably sobbing an hour or so before, sitting in bed with a friend watching television. He looked from the bed to the television screen where the movie was still paused. Looking over to Leroy who just gave a shrug, Hiram hesitantly said, "Hey, Hon. I got you your favorite, Chocolate Brownie Almond. I thought maybe it would make you feel better… but it looks like you already are."

Rachel nodded, looking from her dads to Quinn and back. Quietly, she said, "I am, thank you. Quinn came over." Quinn noticed she said it so simply, like obviously Rachel would be feeling better now that Quinn was here. She couldn't help but see the look of disappointment on the faces of Hiram and Leroy, seeing as they were her fathers. Of course they should be the ones to make everything better. Not this girl who had bullied their daughter for a year and a half. "We're watching Finding Nemo."

"Oh," Hiram said, seemingly at a loss for words. "Did, uh, did you two want the ice cream, then?" He held up a pint of vegan ice cream and two spoons.

Quinn looked over and locked eyes with Leroy, seeing that, no matter how grateful he might have been for what she did for Rachel, she still wasn't welcome. "That's okay," she said, pulling back the covers and getting up. "I really should be getting home, anyway."

"No!" Rachel said, slightly panicked, standing up. Realizing she had gotten so loud, she was quickly back down to a quieter, almost shy voice. "I thought… I mean, I thought we could at least finish the movie? Can't we?" She finished with this heartbreakingly, pathetically adorable little pout that had Quinn wondering how this girl hadn't already taken over the school. One look had Quinn wanting to do whatever it took to make Rachel smile again and… _just, God, stop looking so sad._

"Uh…" Quinn looked from Rachel's pout to Leroy's stern expression to Hiram's quizzical look. "I can, I guess… I mean, if that's okay?"

Leroy seemed about to say that it definitely wasn't okay, but he was interrupted by Hiram. "Of course it's okay." Hiram said as he walked across the threshold, handing the pint and spoons to Rachel who smiled sheepishly up at him like she wasn't used to doing it. She then climbed back in, pulling the covers back over her. Quinn followed her lead, this time remembering to slip her shoes off before getting under the covers.

Hiram smiled at Leroy and pulled on his arm, pulling him away from the room. Leroy, still looking like he wanted to say something, let himself be pulled away, casting Quinn a parting glare before he went.

A half hour later, Quinn was sitting beside Rachel. They had been moving closer and closer together as they had passed the emptying pint of ice cream back and forth, and now that it was gone, they were nearly on top of each other they were cuddled so close. On screen, Nemo was lying under the net, and his dad was rushing to him. As Quinn watched the movie, a tear made its way down her right cheek. Another one came down on her left. She determinedly looked at the screen as to not let Rachel know she was crying, then promptly gave it away when she sniffled loudly.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked, moving back slightly to look over at her. "Quinn, are you…?"

'_Dad… I don't hate you,'_ Nemo said on screen. Quinn gave a choked sob as the tears started falling faster.

'_Oh, no, no, no. I'm so sorry, Nemo.'_

And then Quinn was crying uncontrollably, pulling the blanket up and burying her face in it as if to shield herself from Rachel. God, what was she thinking, picking _this_ of all movies to watch? Anything happy and animated probably would have worked. No, the girl with the 'daddy issues' had to pick Finding-fucking-Nemo.

"Quinn," Rachel called to her, trying to pull the blanket away from her face. "Quinn, I don't know what's wrong, but you don't have to hide." She pulled at the blanket again, but Quinn held it even tighter, unwilling to show the girl beside her how weak she was. "It's okay to be sad about…"

Rachel looked back at the screen where Marlin was now racing Nemo to school. It was the end of the movie, the happy ending, and everyone should be 'awww'ing about how things had worked out so well and how everyone had learned important life lessons about sticking together and letting go and family. Quinn cut her eyes over to Rachel and watched as the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place.

"It's about your dad, isn't it?" At least she was nice enough to pose it as a question to give Quinn an out if she wanted one. Rachel attempted to wrap her braced arm around Quinn, but the cheerleader just shrugged her off.

"It's stupid," Quinn said through the tears. "My dad's an asshole. I shouldn't miss him. I hate him."

"But you do anyway," Rachel said. "And it's not stupid. Dr. Richards said sometimes that however you feel is how you're supposed to feel." Quinn remembered him saying that during her own sessions with him over the summer when she had talked about hating her dad and giving up the baby. That there were no right or wrong ways to feel about something, only how you felt. She wondered if she should tell Rachel at some point that they shared the same therapist. "And maybe," Rachel went on, "you don't miss him as much as you miss the past?"

"…maybe…" Quinn said, wiping her eyes with the blanket. This time when Rachel reached around and tried to pull her closer, Quinn actually let her. Because Dr. Richards had also told her it would be best if she let someone in; a friend, a family member, someone. Ice Queen Quinn Fabray had tried to handle it on her own by bottling it up, though, and here she was crying in front of freaking Rachel Berry. Her life would be funny if it wasn't so fucked up.

They sat there in silence for a while, staring at the menu of the DVD but neither really seeing anything besides their own thoughts. Quinn's head rested on Rachel's shoulder while Rachel's arm was wrapped around Quinn, pulling her in closer. "This is so backwards," Quinn said, sleepily, fighting back a yawn. "I'm supposed to be the one helping you."

"Maybe we can help each other?" Rachel offered up. "Isn't that what friends do?"

"Yeah," Quinn mumbled with a ghost of a smile, because, really, friends with Rachel Berry? These few days had been strange indeed. "Friends."

* * *

Rachel reached her good hand out of the shower and grabbed her towel, bringing it into the shower and wrapping it as best she could around herself. She wished now that she'd gotten one of those towel-toga combinations (or were they toga-towels?) that she'd seen the funny infomercial for. All those gadgets looked so useful at three in the morning, but her dads would never allow her to get them. Except for the Slap Chop. That had been the absolute only way to actually get her to help out in the kitchen. It was just so much fun.

Stepping out into the rest of the bathroom, Rachel wiped away the steam on the mirror and raked her eyes over the girl in it. The braced forearm was jammed into a plastic bag and tied off, thanks to her Dad who'd helped her get ready for her shower. Luckily Quinn could sleep through anything… including the looks her Dad kept sending towards the sleeping Cheerio, as if he were trying to figure her out like one of his Sunday crosswords. She'd have to have a talk with the two of them about that. Rachel's other forearm, now sans bandages but still being held together by sutures, was wrapped in plastic wrap. It had made showering a chore, but she hadn't been allowed to bath by herself the entire time at the hospital, and she was determined to do it alone. All doors were to remain open at all times, however, and her Dad and Daddy both had walked through to check on her during her shower, but at least she'd accomplished that one small task.

Rachel's eyes left the mirror and looked around to the rest of the bathroom, looking for something she could kill herself with. Daddy had done a good job with suicide proofing the bathroom and her bedroom (as far as she could tell, though she hadn't really had a chance to explore with first the sobbing, then the Quinn), but she knew the rest of the house would hold a treasure trove of ways. Other knives in the kitchen, rope in the garage, the handgun in the lockbox in the back of her dads' closet that they didn't know she knew about. Rachel had done the research about this like she had everything else in her life.

Not that it mattered. Rachel wasn't planning on killing herself right now, not with Quinn out there sleeping, anyway. She was enjoying the idea of this newfound friendship, even if it was still hard to wrap her brain around. The person at school who had bullied her the most had saved her life. If any one person had done the most to make Rachel feel worthless, like she could end her life and no one would care, it was Quinn. And yet, now here she was at Rachel's house (in Rachel's room, even) watching movies and eating ice cream and acting like friends.

Rachel quickly stepped around the corner and glanced at the sleeping blonde cheerleader on her bed. Though not in her cheerleading uniform, this looked just like the setup to so many fantasies she'd had during her freshman year when Quinn had been the hot new head cheerleader and Rachel the bright young ingénue that would make her question her (clearly repressed) latent homosexual nature.

Except in reality, Quinn hadn't been repressed, just a horrible person. And Rachel hadn't been the bright ingénue but the little Jewish girl caught masturbating by some Cheerio even more horrible than Quinn. It was one of those same fantasies about Quinn that had gotten photographed and probably shown to every Cheerio at the school. It was a wonder Quinn was there at all, if she'd seen the picture. Seeing it and knowing who it was about were two thankfully different things, though, and Rachel was grateful for that small favor, at least.

Rachel watched Quinn sleeping for another moment, hoping she wasn't being too much of a creeper. She was just so cute and relaxed when she was asleep. It was so unlike how she was used to thinking of Quinn. She was usually so reserved and cold, but still strikingly beautiful, like how Rachel thought of those Greek marble statues. And though it was kind of hot how Quinn beat up that girl for her, Rachel Barbra Berry was _**definitely not**_ crushing on one Quinn Fabray. That ship had sailed. And crashed into an iceberg. And sank to the bottom of the Atlantic. And then stayed there for nearly a century until an old woman threw a necklace at it. …Okay, so it was possible Rachel had watched too many reruns of Titanic on some cable channel while in the hospital.

Stepping back into the bathroom, Rachel let her thoughts wonder back to her pre-Quinn mental ramblings. No, she definitely wouldn't be killing herself tonight. Or maybe ever. Right now, who knew? Like she'd thought (before her Quinn induced mental tangent), she'd done the research. She knew that guilt wasn't a great motivator for staying alive. Rachel didn't want to hurt her fathers, it was true, but how long before she didn't care again? Tomorrow? A week? A month? It was comforting, in a way, knowing she could try again if she needed to. It was like an escape hatch for life. If things got too difficult, too unbearable, she had a way out.

Doing her best with one working hand, Rachel took the bag and plastic wrap off her injuries, then managed to get into a loose pair of sweats and a large, baggy long-sleeved shirt. The inability to dry off properly caused the shirt to cling unnecessarily to her, and she was suddenly thankful that Quinn was still sleeping. If she had to parade past her blonde _**not**_-fantasy girl looking like the loser of a wet t-shirt contest, she wouldn't have to worry about a second suicide attempt because she'd just go ahead and die of embarrassment.

_See, take that, Dr. Richards_, Rachel thought, sticking her tongue out at her reflection. _The ability to make inappropriate jokes about it must mean I'm doing better, right?_ Pausing, she considered this whole train (wreck) of thought since stepping out of the shower and sighed. _I honestly can't tell whether this is me or the meds right now._

Rachel slipped quietly through her room and out into the hallway, down the steps where she could hear her fathers arguing in the kitchen. It seemed like that was all they did nowadays. She waited four stairs from the bottom, listening. She knew the next step squeaked, and once they heard that squeak, they'd be all smiles and snippy comments, but no actual communication would happen. By listening, though, she could hear them saying what they were actually thinking, and… okay, it was definitely a good thing Quinn was upstairs asleep.

"I don't care what she did for Rachel," Leroy said heatedly. Rachel could hear him pacing around the island like he always did when he was upset. In her mind, she saw Hiram sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, looking on and shaking his head at her Daddy's antics. "She's not welcome here. She's the cause of this in the first place."

"Lee, I read the same letters you did, and you know that's not true," Hiram said.

"That… that _girl_… her name was said more than anyone else's."

"Yes, but she didn't do anything more than you did back in high school."

"Yeah, but-"

"And if anyone has a reason to be upset about a Fabray picking on our daughter it's me, remember?" Rachel cocked her head to the side, confused. Had she missed something? Why would her Dad be more upset than her Daddy? "_And…_ it would seem Rachel has forgiven Quinn, so maybe we should at least give her a chance."

"Did you even read the same letters I read, Hiram?" Leroy said loudly. There was the sound of papers moving around before she heard him clear his throat and continue. "'Times Quinn specifically had me slushied… twenty-four. Times Quinn laughed when other people slushied me… sixty-five. Times Quinn stole my clothes after gym so I had to wear sweaty clothes the rest of the day… five. Times Quinn stole and ripped up my homework… eleven. Times Quinn drew pornographic pictures of me in the bathroom… six. Times Quinn stole my lunch and threw it away… eighteen. Times Quinn-'"

"I get it, Lee!" Hiram nearly yelled, and there was the sound of a chair being pushed back as her Dad stood up. "She bullied our daughter. I get it. I'm not saying she's a great person. I…" Hiram sighed. When he spoke again, he sounded defeated. "I don't know what I'm saying. Maybe you're right. Maybe she should stay away from our little Ray."

Hearing this, Rachel went wide-eyed momentarily, knowing she had to interject. Going down the three steps, she heard her fathers' conversation come to a halt at the squeak of the third step from the bottom. Rounding the corner and coming into the room, Rachel tried to muster up her fierce… divaness? Divanicity? Divaliciousness? …Okay, no, definitely not that one. She wasn't a food, though she did sometimes feel warm and flaky. Especially now. _Come on, Rachel Barbra Berry, get it together_, she told herself. Whatever her inner diva attitude was, she tried to channel that, but she wasn't sure if she could or not.

"No," Rachel said, walking briskly into the kitchen. "Quinn's not going anywhere. She's my friend now, and I've forgiven her for all of that, and… and…" She faltered under their surprised stares, running out of steam, suddenly embarrassed and feeling stupid. God, she really didn't want to talk to them… and where had that come from? She used to tell them everything, and they were staring at each other like strangers. "I need her."

"Rachel," Leroy started, holding the letters in front of her face. "You don't need her. She-"

"No!" Rachel yelled as she snatched the letters from the surprised Leroy's hands. "You can't- you weren't supposed to see these until after- you can't just… you had no right to…" She held the letters to her chest, willing herself not to cry, sniffling loudly. No, this wasn't right. She was going to be more determined than this. She was going to come down here and tell her fathers that they had to be nicer to Quinn because Quinn had saved her life, and while Rachel wasn't so sure that was a good thing yet, her fathers were supposed to be happy about that, right? "She saved me!" Rachel said, unable to stop yelling at them. "You're supposed to… she's better now. This was all in the past, and I've forgiven her, and… and… you can't just… condemn…" She trailed off, taking deep breaths. When did the room start spinning? That was a new addition, right?

"Rachel," Hiram said, moving over towards her. She was backing away the way she'd come, eyes darting around and looking for an exit. She didn't register the look of hurt on Hiram's face, and wouldn't have been able to care if she had. "Rachel, do you think maybe you should take one of your antianxiety pills?"

"No!" she yelled, nearly screaming this time. "I can do this without- I'm not some crazy… I don't need…" Quieter, still backing away, "…I don't… I don't…."

"Rachel." Quinn called out her name softly from behind her. Rachel spun at the sound of her voice, seeing Quinn sock clad in the doorway of her kitchen. Her hair was all lopsided from where she'd been sleeping, but her eyes were awake and worried. Her hands were down beside her, but Rachel could see the pill bottle clutched firmly there in her right hand. "Rachel, come here."

It was a command this time, and Rachel followed it, walking slowly towards Quinn's waiting outstretched arms. She nearly crumpled when Quinn's arms went around her, placing her head into the puffy sweater that smelled of fabric softener and Quinn's perfume. She was still willing herself not to cry, but it was a losing battle. The tears came slowly and carefully, but at least she wasn't sobbing, because, really, how much of that could she manage to do per day? It was still enough to dampen Quinn's fluffy sweater, though, and she felt a little bad for that, but at least she wasn't wearing any kind of makeup that might stain it, though, so yay. Kind of.

After a few tense, awkward minutes of Rachel crying into Quinn's shoulder/chest/neck (because there was absolutely nothing wrong with moving around a bit and trying to find a drier place to cry, and it had nothing to do with wanting to feel different parts of Quinn because that ship had sunk and had a necklace thrown at it, remember?), Quinn pulled back and looked at Rachel. "Better?" she asked, smiling.

Rachel nodded, smiling sheepishly, because sometimes she just needed to cry and get everything out. It was still embarrassing, having everyone stare at her while she did it. Wanting to be the center of attention for her talent was all well and good, but having her dads just watch her instead of comforting her was off-putting. It didn't used to be like that. Before, she would always tell her dads everything, and they would always make it better. Now, it was like talking to strangers. She didn't want to tell them anything that might hurt them, and they were treating her like a child which, okay, maybe she was a child, kind of, but she was also almost an adult and it was her life that she had tried to end and they couldn't keep treating her like that and holy run-on sentence… thought… whatever.

Turning back to her dads, she kept her eyes to the floor and said a quiet, "…sorry. I was just…" And she stopped and shrugged, because she didn't know what she was just.

"It's okay, sweetie," Leroy said, taking a couple of steps over towards her. With Quinn directly behind her, Rachel couldn't move away from him, so she just had to stand there and let him come to her. Which he did, slowly. She looked up and he had his arms open, hoping for a hug, and suddenly, Quinn was pushing her from behind and he was hugging her, holding her, and, okay, it was sort of nice. "You're okay. We're here for you."

"Both of you?" Rachel asked after a moment, pulling out of his embrace and looking up at her Daddy, then looking over at Hiram. "But I thought you were moving out? You said… you said you couldn't be a part of this family anymore."

"I never- Ray, I _never_ said that," Hiram said, shocked. "I would never say that. Rachel, you are _the_ most important-"

"I _heard_ you!" Rachel yelled, possibly screamed, again, stepping back, and she had the sudden urge to laugh, imaging that it was some kind of conversation/confrontation dance routine between her and her fathers with a step forward, an embrace, a step back, two, three, four, two, three, four, but she knew she couldn't laugh because then she _would_ be a crazy person, and it wasn't like it was funny anyway because it definitely wasn't funny, but she still wanted to laugh because of how unfunny it truly was and again she was breathing heavy, possibly hyperventilating, and-

From behind, Quinn reached around her and placed hands on her upper arms, pulling her close behind her. Rachel felt Quinn and her fluffiness rubbing into the back of her admittedly thin shirt (why had she chosen this one again?) and her chin was resting on Rachel's right shoulder.

"Rachel, calm down," Quinn said, leaning her head sideways into Rachel's and running her hands up and down Rachel's arms, slowly, in a motion that soon had Rachel calming down. "I think it might be best if you took one of your anxiety pills. Agreed?"

"I don't-" Rachel started to say, but Quinn was holding her and her head was so close to Rachel's own head, and she knew if she turned her head to look Quinn in the eyes she would be within kissing distance and there would be nothing to stop her from kissing that sunken necklace-thrown-at ship and then she'd lose her only friend and Quinn would hate her and she couldn't have Quinn hate her because then Rachel wouldn't have anything then, and… and… "Maybe… maybe you're right."

Leroy and Hiram shared a look, an unspoken conversation, and it seemed that Leroy lost because he sighed and broke eye contact, moving around the kitchen to get Rachel a cup of water.

Rachel, who was already calming down due to Quinn's ministrations, reluctantly (…_no, no, wait, no, __**not**__ reluctantly_, she had to remind herself) stepped out of Quinn's arms and continued her conversation at a now respectable volume, saying "I heard you arguing last week. You told Daddy that with his long hours and weekends at work and you raising a daughter 'practically by yourself'" she flailed her arms, making huge air quotes as best she could with her braced arm, "that you 'couldn't be a part of this anymore'. You yelled at him about missing the best years of your life already and how you couldn't be the only one in this. You said… you said maybe it was a mistake." She paused wrapping her arms around her midsection and seeming to shrink into herself because she knew… she knew what she'd heard. It had been just another step needed to walk her over the edge. "You were talking about me."

"Rachel Barbra Berry," Hiram said, half sternly yet half sadly, it seemed, and walked to Rachel, lifting her chin up to meet his eyes. "I would never, _never_ say anything like that about you. The mistake I was talking about was agreeing with Leroy about him taking this new position. Just because our marriage," he motioned between himself and Leroy, who was back and standing there holding a cup of water, "might be having issues doesn't mean that our family is. I love you. We both love you, and in the seventeen years we've had you, we've never thought of you as a mistake. You're the best thing in both our lives, Ray."

"So you're not leaving, then?" Rachel asked hopefully.

"I…" Hiram turned to Leroy and they stared at each other for another long silent conversation moment before he turned back to Rachel. "We have a lot of issues, and it may come to that at some point, but you getting better is more important than any of that is right now. I'll be here as long as you need me. Okay?"

"Okay."

Hiram bridged the remaining steps and pulled Rachel into a hug, squeezing her tight and holding her close for a minute before finally letting go. Once she was released, Leroy did the same, pulling her in and holding her tight. She had nearly lost it again, that panicked hopeless feeling overwhelming her like it had in the bathroom after coming home. She felt so broken, so useless, like she could barely function around these people. Rachel just wanted to curl up until she was better and have people wait on her like it was the flu instead of something that was wrong with her life, but that (unfortunately) wasn't an option.

Once they were all back to staring awkwardly at her, Rachel tucked the now incredibly crumpled letters under her arm and took the cup from Leroy. She went to take the pill bottle from Quinn, then realized, yet again, that she really only had the one good arm. Rachel and Quinn both seemed to look down at the brace at the same time, and Rachel met Quinn's eyes again with another embarrassed smile. Quinn just shrugged, though, and opened the annoying child-proof lock, getting out one of the pills. She put the pill in-between the finger and thumb of Rachel's braced hand. It was weird, though, or at least it _felt_ weird, or… it was weird that it didn't feel weird. It didn't feel like anything at all because she couldn't actually feel it. Maybe the brace was having some kind of effect on the nerves in her fingers? She'd have to ask at her doctor's appointment next week.

Looking down at the pill, it didn't seem like that big of a deal. It was just a tiny little white _thing_ with some kind of symbol pressed into it. How was this supposed to make her better? And yet, she had to trust it because, really, what other choice did she have? Breaking down in front of Quinn and her fathers was embarrassing and stupid and she hated it. She hated herself for doing it. What if it happened at school? Oh, God, what if people started teasing her at school about everythin-

"Rachel, just take the damn pill," Quinn interrupted her thoughts from beside her, and she realized she had just been staring at it in her hand while silently freaking out. _How did Quinn always seem to know?_, she wondered as she popped the pill in her mouth and washed it down with the cold water Leroy had brought her. Rachel turned back towards Quinn and handed her the pill bottle, opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue. It was stupid, but it made Quinn smile, so it was totally worth it in Rachel's book.

"Dork," Quinn said, taking the pill bottle back and hitting her softly on the shoulder.

"Stay for dinner," Rachel said, smiling, now fully facing Quinn. She noticed how Quinn looked over her shoulder towards Leroy, and she followed suit, glaring at him. "Daddy, I was serious, even if a little…" Panicked? Stressed? Freaked out? Having a panic attack? Mentally dying a slow and painful death? _Wow, way to be melodramatic, Rachel_. "…flustered… earlier. I've forgiven Quinn for everything, and she's my friend now. That means you have to be nice to her."

"Rachel…" Everyone started to say at the same time, but Rachel was not to be challenged, in this at least.

"No," she said, turning first to her fathers, then to Quinn. "No. I forgave you." Back to her fathers. "I forgave her. She's my friend. She saved my life. The least you can do is forget about these stupid letters." She pulled the letters back out from under her arm and waved them around. "They… they weren't supposed to be read until after I was… until after, okay? I didn't think about the consequences of it, or… okay, I guess I did, but I didn't think about you two being angry about it. I just thought the people that did it would feel bad and maybe change their ways or something."

"Rachel-"

"No," Rachel said, again interrupting Leroy. "This is… this is nonnegotiable. Quinn is- she hasn't been a bully since last year, since… since Beth," Rachel failed to see Quinn's reaction to the name, but she saw her fathers looking at Quinn with something like pity in their eyes. "And though she hasn't been my friend during that time, she hasn't done anything on this list during that time either. She's changed. She's better, and she's-"

"Rachel, it's okay," Quinn said from behind her. "You don't have to-"

"No, I do, and it's not okay, Quinn. You _are_ different. That Quinn… _this_ Quinn," she emphasized by shaking the letters in her hand again. "_This_ Quinn wouldn't have cared enough to come over to check on me. This Quinn would have posted some kind of horrible comment on MySpace and wished me the best of luck and would have been upset that I didn't get it right like… like Missy did." Okay, she was _**definitely**_ not going to cry again, because she was getting fucking sick of it, and… yeah, just excuse the unseemly mental profanity. Rachel was having a bad day. She took a deep settling breath as everyone watched, and finished with, "So, just… you're staying for dinner, okay?" Turning back towards her dads, she added, "Okay?"

Leroy was about to speak, but Hiram caught his wrist, gently pulling it to get him to face him. "Lee," he said. "It's not like you didn't bully people in high school, too. Cut her some slack, okay?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't that bad, and I only did it to boys that-" And Leroy's mouth shut as he spun to look back and forth between Quinn and Rachel, arching an eyebrow. Rachel couldn't help but be jealous because she had seen Quinn do that so many times, and she always wanted to be able to do it, and why couldn't she have inherited that from her Daddy? Stupid genetics… Also, why wasn't he speaking anymore? Realizing they were staring back at him, Leroy finished with "-boys that… that I, uh, hated."

Leroy turned to Hiram and there was another silent conversation, and, wow, did that ever annoy Rachel. If they were supposed to be all open and honest with each other, they should have had it out loud, right? But her dads were always doing that ever since she was little, and it drove her nuts every time.

"Dads?" Rachel asked. They didn't respond, but they did keep glaring at each other, turning every so often to shoot glances at Rachel and Quinn. Quinn was starting to look uncomfortable, so Rachel just turned to Quinn and shrugged. "They do this all the time," she stage whispered to Quinn. "They're annoying that way."

Looking at Quinn now, Rachel noticed that besides looking uncomfortable, she was also still looking really adorable because of her sleep messed hair. Deciding to take decisive action, and since her fathers were apparently ignoring her right now, Rachel reached out and started patting down the blonde's hair as best she could. Quinn pulled away, whispering, "Rachel, quit it," but Rachel kept trying to tug her hair into a better position.

"Quinn, stop moving," Rachel huffed, wanting desperately to stomp her foot, but she was trying not to act like she a seven year old. "This is hard to do one-handed."

"I can fix my own hair," Quinn said, swatting at her hands and leaning back to keep her away. "Stop being weird."

"I'm not being weird," Rachel said, trying to reach past the Cheerio's now outstretched arm that had a hand firmly planted on Rachel's forehead. "I'm just trying to… unh… help you put your best foot… ugh… forward for my… oof… dads. _Curse you and your longer reach, Quinn Fabray_!" This time she did stomp her foot and crossed her arms over her chest for good measure. Quinn only smirked back at her, again raising that infuriating eyebrow.

"Girls," Hiram said, and they both turned back to the adults in the room. "Rachel. Quinn. We've had a moment to talk about it" (_stupid silent conversations_, Rachel again thought, still irritated by that and Quinn's _stupid_ longer arms), "and we've decided that _maybe_ Rachel is right and Quinn isn't the same person we read about in those letters. She can stay for dinner," Hiram paused to look at Quinn, "if you'd like, Miss Fabray. We realize our lovely daughter here issued you an order, instead of asking like the lovely, thoughtful person we raised her to be," here Hiram paused to shoot Rachel an exasperated, though loving, look that had her blushing at the realization that she was kind of being a diva, but, okay, that was her thing, right?, "but please don't think you have to follow it."

"No, it's okay," Quinn said, sharing a smile with Hiram. "I don't mind following _Princess Rachel's_ wishes. I'll stay. I just need to call my mom." As Quinn walked away, already pulling out her cell phone, Rachel couldn't help but stare because A) that sunken ship had a really nice butt in jeans, and B) she'd called her Princess Rachel, and that just made her all fluttery inside because, really, just too cute.

* * *

Dinner was a pleasant affair. Quinn was worried that she wouldn't like whatever weird vegan meal the Misters Berry would undoubtedly fix for Rachel's first night back from the hospital, but she needn't have. They had made linguine with marinara sauce with meatballs on the side for Leroy and Quinn, as Hiram was a vegan like Rachel. They even passed the meal in relative peace, with Hiram and Leroy asking how Quinn's Christmas vacation was going and if she had finished her Christmas shopping. She said that she'd almost finished, though she still needed to get a present for her boyfriend. She didn't bother to add her thoughts, _if he still is my boyfriend_, because they were already shooting her looks over mentioning a boyfriend at all.

Quinn wasn't stupid. She knew what the unspoken conversation between Hiram and Leroy had been about. She knew what Leroy had almost said. He'd almost said "I only did that to boys I liked" or "boys I had a crush on" or something like that. She knew Rachel wouldn't get it, but Quinn did. She and Leroy had a lot in common, it seemed.

…Or, they might have, if she'd let herself… if she'd let _Lucy…_ have that silly crush on Rachel that she'd thought about. But no. Quinn wasn't gay. She wouldn't let herself be. She _chose_ not to be, because, really, sin is a choice. It has to be. God had given her these feelings as a test or something, and Quinn was going to pass it. Lucy may not have been able to, but that's what Quinn did. She was a winner. That's what her father had made her, that's what Sue Sylvester had made her, and that's what she would be.

The only problem with dinner was that Quinn kept thinking about her call to her mom. Or, not the call, really, but afterwards. During the call, she had made sure her mom was going to her Wednesday night AA meeting and that it was okay for her to stay at Rachel's for dinner, which Judy hesitantly assured her it was. It was only a couple of nights before after visiting Rachel at the hospital that Quinn had told Judy about feeling responsible for Rachel, and how she had wanted to help her get better. The bullying Quinn had done came out during the shared family therapy sessions over the summer, and Judy understood, after some explaining, that this was just something Quinn had to do.

No, the problem had started when she checked her phone after talking to Judy, noticing that she had a text from Brittany.

From Brittany: _Q, if ur still at Rachel's, don't let her go on facebook or myspace cuz people have said some really mean things n she'll be :(  
_From Quinn: _Thanks, B! I'll make sure to get to it first so she doesn't see it._

After a minute of thinking about it, overthinking it, and deciding that it was pretty stupid, she sent another text.

From Quinn: _Thank you for being my Dory._  
From Brittany: _Just keep swimming! Just keep swimming! Swimming, swimming, swimming! LUV that movie! Anytime and ur welcome! See you tom, Q!_

Quinn knew Brittany would get it.

The end of dinner came all too soon. Quinn had offered to help wash the dishes, but Hiram and Leroy had declined her invitation for help. After offering, Quinn followed Rachel back upstairs to where her purse and shoes still were. In Rachel's room, she cast a nervous glance at the laptop sitting on Rachel's desk.

"Hey, this is going to sound crazy, maybe, but… you trust me, right?" Quinn asked, moving her hands nervously against each other. "I mean, with the whole quid pro quo thing, that's what we're doing is trusting each other. Right?"

"Sure, Quinn," Rachel said. "I'm glad that we can tell each other anything. I've never had a relationship with someone other than my dads were I felt the freedom to be open and honest before, and though it's only been a couple of days, if there's something you-"

A hand being held up silenced the talkative brunette. "So, if I asked you to sign on to Facebook for me so I can unfriend most of your friends, you'd trust me to do that, right?"

Rachel looked up at her confused. "I… guess? Why would you want to, though?"

Quinn sighed and ran hands through her hair, pushing it back over her shoulders. God, it would be so much easier to lie to her, but that's not what they did. Stupid honesty. "Because it's _possible_ that Brittany texted me and said that people have said some horrible stuff on there, and I didn't want you to have to read it."

Rachel's "oh" was quietly introspective, but at least she wasn't crying about it, so Quinn was looking at it as a win. There had been enough tears between the both of them for a while. After a while, Rachel finally said, "And you don't think it would maybe benefit me to see some of these comments?"

"Honestly, I can't imagine how it would." There would only be hurt at seeing how much people disliked her, though for the life of her, Quinn couldn't figure out why beyond Quinn had made them. Rachel was bossy and a know-it-all and pushy and kind of a brownnoser, but she wasn't any worse than a lot of other people at the school. Then again, those people didn't have two gay dads or the talent and drive to get out of this stupid little town. Those other people broke and joined the ranks of normalcy or, like Kurt, left. For most of her life, Rachel wouldn't. Until four days ago.

And maybe they were both thinking the same thing, because Rachel eventually said, "You're right", walked over to her computer, and signed into Facebook for Quinn, turning her back and leaving her, trusting her, to do whatever she needed to. Quinn ended up unfriending nearly everyone in Rachel's friends list save for the people in Glee Club, her dads, and some other people with the last name Berry that Quinn assumed were relatives. Then, while Rachel wasn't looking, she signed into her own Facebook account and left a message on Rachel's wall, hoping she would get it later and it might make her feel better.

'_Rachel, I know you're Jewish and this is a Catholic prayer, but it always helps me. It's also a song by Sarah McLaughlin, if that's any consolation…_

_Lord make me an instrument of your peace,  
__Where there is hatred let me sow love.  
__Where there is injury, pardon.  
__Where there is doubt, faith.  
__Where there is despair, hope.  
__Where there is darkness, light.  
__And where there is sadness, joy._

_O divine master grant that I may  
__Not so much seek to be consoled as to console;  
__To be understood as to understand;  
__To be loved as to love.  
__For it is in giving that we receive.  
__It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.  
__And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life._

_Amen'_

After that, Quinn signed off of Rachel's computer and turned in the desk chair to look at her, saying, "I hope that took care of all of it. If there's anyone that I missed, or if I accidentally unfriended people you're actually friends with, I apologize."

"Thanks," Rachel said from where she still sat on the bed clutching some stuffed animal that Quinn had missed the first time up there. It was a round red and white stuffed pig about the size of a volleyball. Quinn looked at it questioningly, but Rachel just said, "Miss Piggybottoms" and gave the animal a squeeze before setting it back on the nightstand beside her bed.

And then, after Quinn was back in her shoes with clutch in hand, they were back downstairs and walking towards the kitchen to say goodbye to Rachel's fathers. Looking over towards Rachel, Quinn noticed she was biting her lip nervously and trying to subtly cast glances at her from the corner of her eye, though Rachel was failing miserably at subtle. The girl was about as subtle as an explosion.

"Just go ahead and say whatever it is you want to say, Berry," Quinn said with a grin, turning to face her once they were down the steps.

"Well…" Rachel started, still worrying her lip between her teeth. "I just wanted to say that I had fun today." Quinn raised a questioning eyebrow at her, and Rachel started backtracking. "Okay, well, maybe not fun in the strictest dictionarily appropriate sense, but for a while there, watching the movie, and then again during dinner, it was fun-ish. Right? I mean, it wasn't just me, was it? Because it's okay if it was just me. You didn't have fun did you? God, this was such a stupid-"

Rachel was cut off by a finger going to her lips, effectively shushing her. "Yes, Berry, I had fun. Ish." Again, Quinn couldn't help but smirk at the girl. The rambling Quinn was used to, but that constantly questioning herself, that was new. That wasn't the girl she knew. "I'm glad I came over."

"Okay, good," Rachel said, a smile gracing her features. They stood there in silence for a moment as Quinn watched Rachel's eyes darting about, going from the floor, up to Quinn's face for a moment, then back down to the floor. "You know, you could come back tomorrow if you wanted…"

Ah, the cause of Rachel's sudden shyness. In all honesty, Quinn wanted to come back. She enjoyed spending time with Rachel. Who would have guessed, right? But this Rachel was changed from the mostly annoying, high strung girl she had been in the past. This Rachel was more subdued, less annoying, less talkative. And even the parts that Quinn should have been annoyed about, like the demand she stay for dinner and the trying to fix her hair, weren't annoying at the moment. She knew Rachel was just trying to be nice and friendly in her own pushy kind of way. It was almost cute, seeing Rachel trying so hard.

"I'd like to, Rachel, really," Quinn said, and she could already see the girl's face falling from the smile she'd just been wearing a moment ago, "but I already have plans with Brittany and Santana tomorrow. We're doing a Christmas movie marathon. It's kind of a tradition."

"Oh, no, that's okay," Rachel said, taking a step back and wrapping her arms around her midsection. _And, God, she's using that fucking gray emotionless voice again_, Quinn realized. "I've taken up too much of your time over the last few days anyway. You should spend time with your actual friends. I'll, um, I'll see you around, Quinn."

She was already turning around to walk back upstairs when Quinn grabbed her good hand and turned her back around. "Rachel," she said, pulling her close and looking directly into her eyes. "You _are_ one of my actual friends." And in a move that she knew would definitely piss Santana off, she offered, "Would you like to come with? I know you're not really big on Christmas, being Jewish and all, but it might be nice to get out of here for a while tomorrow."

And that was all it took to get Rachel to go from emotionless gray back to huge happy smile, at least for that moment. Rachel rushed off to ask her dads, and Quinn followed reluctantly behind, thinking about the conversation she was going to have to have with Santana about… wow, just about everything. Inappropriate comments, jokes… everything.

"Dad, Daddy," Quinn heard Rachel asking as she walked into the kitchen. "Am I grounded for trying to kill myself?" Quinn went wide-eyed as she exchanged looks with Hiram and Leroy, who was currently choking on his coffee.

"Jesus, Rachel!" Quinn said. "You can't just… you can't just ask stuff like that, okay?"

"Why not?" Rachel asked, looking honestly confused.

"There are just some things that you don't say," Quinn said. "Do you just ask say everything that pops into your head?"

"Usually, yes," Rachel said. Quinn face-palmed, suddenly thinking that having her and Santana in the same room wasn't such a great idea after all, but Rachel was already talking again, and it was too late to tape her mouth shut. "So am I? Because Quinn invited me to hang out with her and some of the girls from Glee Club to watch some Christmas movies tomorrow." It took a second, but Quinn got what Rachel was doing. Instead of asking to hang out with some of the Cheerios who had bullied her, she was asking to hang out with 'some of the girls from Glee' instead because she knew that, while Cheerios would get a definite no, Glee Club might get a yes. _Very clever, Miss Berry_, she thought, this time keeping her smirk to herself.

"I don't know, Rachel," Leroy said, no longer choking to death. "Don't you think it would be best to maybe spend some time here recuperating? This is just your first day at home."

"It's just watching movies, Daddy," Rachel said. "It's not like I'm going mountain climbing. I think I'll be okay. I can take my meds with me, and Quinn can babysit me all day to make sure nothing goes wrong." And by 'nothing goes wrong', Quinn knew that everyone was thinking about Rachel's next attempt. Great. Quinn would be on suicide watch. Just… awesome. God, the things she did just to not see that fucking sad look on Berry's face.

Hiram stepped in this time, pulling Leroy to the side and having a whispered argument with him. The words "girls" "school" and "movies" were heard, as well as Leroy saying the phrase "transfer her if we have to". Quinn looked over at Rachel who was staring back at Quinn, embarrassed. Eventually the whispered argument came to an end and Hiram turned back to Rachel and Quinn, saying, "That'll be fine."

After everything was settled in which they all discussed what time Quinn would pick Rachel up, what medications Quinn would need to make sure Rachel took, the fact that Rachel wouldn't be allowed to put any closed doors between herself and another person, and just exactly who would be there… which of course started another argument in which Leroy was upset about the past actions of Santana, Rachel assured both of her fathers that Santana hadn't bullied Rachel at all this year, and Hiram convinced him that Brittany seemed to be a really sweet girl and that her name wasn't on the list at all… after all of that, Leroy and Hiram were eventually placated enough to let Quinn leave for the night.

After a long goodbye hug to Rachel which had Quinn wondering just when _that_ started, she was sitting out in her car saying a silent prayer of thanks for letting everything turn out the way it did. She'd been able to help Rachel where her father hadn't, and while she did feel bad for them, she couldn't help but be proud of herself. She was doing exactly what she set out to do: help Rachel get better. Along with the thanks, though, she was also asking for strength. The strength to continue being able to help Rachel. The strength to stand up for her in the face of her peers at school when they go back. The strength to continue resisting the disgusting urges she was having about Rachel and whatever feelings she may or may not have for the girl. Also, the strength to have the conversation she was about to have with Santana.

"What up, bitch? You finally find time for your actual friends?" was apparently how Santana was answering the phone tonight. Wonderful.

"Hey, San," Quinn said, ignoring the girl's question on the other end… though, if that's how she was going to start it, might as well jump right in, right? "So, I'm bringing Rachel over tomorrow to join our Christmas movie marathon. Do you have anything vegan friendly at your house or should we bring something?"

"Whoa, what? Please tell me I heard… anything else, really," Santana said. "You're bringing Suicidal Suzy to our Christmas movie marathon? Wasn't it enough that we had to deal with your overemotional lard ass last year? Now you want to bring another person to cry through the last fifteen minutes of every movie like you did? What the actual fuck, Q?"

Quinn sighed, starting the car and pulled out of the driveway, holding the phone between her shoulder and ear because her Bluetooth was… somewhere? Yeah, it was definitely somewhere. "Look, Rachel asked me to hang out tomorrow and I said that I was busy with you and Britts, but she looked so… disappointed… that I just had to invite her. You would have done the same."

"Um, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't," Santana said. "Berry can be by herself for a day and be fine. She's a big girl. And I'm sure daddy dearest and daddy dearest are both waiting on her hand and foot. Probably has a little silver bell she rings to get… I don't know. What do you feed a hobbit? Leaves or some shit?"

"Santana, can't you just-"

"No, Q, I can't," Santana said with a huff. "First it's depressing, homeless, baby-on-board Christmas last year, now it's 'oh my God my life is so horrible I should end it' Christmas this year? I get yours. Some idiot knocking me up and trying to figure out what to do with his spawn would depress me, too, but Berry-"

"Fuck you, S," Quinn said, pressing the end call button on her phone. How dare she bring up Bet… the baby like that? Not now, not at Christmas time when Quinn was already hating herself for… for everything, really. This would be her first Christmas, with the tiny little ornaments that said "Baby's First Christmas" and the stocking and, God, would it have been so difficult to keep the baby, really? Yes, she knew that it would have been, and that it would have changed both of their lives and not necessarily for the better, and she knew that she had done what was right, but… Damn it. It still hurt.

"_Oh, Mickey,  
__You're so fine,  
__You're so fine you blow my mind,  
__Hey Mickey"_

Quinn's phone was suddenly singing out, still clutched in her hand, and she answered it without looking at it, already knowing that setting up that particular ringtone had to have been Santana's doing. She didn't even remember leaving her phone alone with her. "What?"

There was a pregnant pause on the phone, followed by, "I'm sorry. That was shitty of me."

"It was," Quinn said. "So here's what's going to happen. Rachel and I are going to watch Christmas movies tomorrow. We're going to invite Brittany who you and I both know is going to come and spend the day with us because she actually likes Rachel and feels bad about not going to her birthday party. If you would like to come, you're more than welcome to, but I'm going to tell Brittany how you didn't want Rachel to join us." Santana started to protest, but Quinn cut her off. "_Or_, we could still have it at your house like we originally talked about, except with Rachel, and Brittany is none the wiser. Your choice."

There was some incoherent mumbling on the other end, though that could have just been Santana cursing in Spanish, then a "Fine… Be here at nine tomorrow morning" before she hung up without another word.

It was low, bringing Brittany into the argument, and Quinn knew it, but Santana had started it by mentioning the baby. That was something no one was allowed to do. And now, they were all going to spend the day together watching movies and hanging out. _Lovely_, Quinn thought as she pulled into her own driveway. _What could possibly go wrong?_


	12. Chapter 12: Christmas Movie Marathon

**Author's Note: This chapter felt disjointed at times while writing it, but I think (hope) it works. I like it anyway. Reading other stories, I always see them apologizing for things not happening or things going slowly. I'm not going to do that, because I'm like 60k+ words in and it's only been five days in their time. Clearly I'm wordy. Probably needlessly so. The people that have reviewed that I've responded to can probably attest to that. I really hope you all are okay with that. I don't know any other way to do this story justice. I really should try something short and happy, like limit myself to 2,000 words and make it fluffy. That's neither here nor there, though.**

**Also, if anyone recognizes Quinn's coffee order, I straight up stole it from "America, She's Beautiful" by K'sChoiceofAFI because that writer is awesome, their story is great, and I know absolutely nothing about coffee, much less difficult orders.**

**Oh, and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated as well as very much needed. I got a lot of brainstorming/thinking/planning done in responding to reviews (though anonymous reviews are always welcome). And if there's anything you want to see in this story, let me know. Everything is up for consideration, because I only have vague ideas about what I'm doing.**

**Also, new longest chapter! Woot!**

* * *

Quinn arrived at Rachel's house at 8am the next morning. When Quinn had told her the previous night that she could call or text her if she had any questions, she didn't really expect anything from the girl. It was just a day of watching movies, with maybe a sleepover. Simple. She should've known better. Rachel had blown up her phone half the night with random questions, comments, worries, and concerns. Yes, those last two were the same thing to most people, but apparently Rachel had a 'worry ranking system' and felt the two were different. All Quinn could wonder was how often someone could take those antianxiety pills, and if there would ever be enough in the world for Rachel Berry.

Once in Rachel's driveway, Quinn said a prayer asking for strength because, with Santana and Rachel in the same place for hours on end, she wasn't sure how much of a headache that would cause, but she was fairly certain she would have one before it was over. At least she remembered to get the bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol before she left the house.

Quinn left the safety of her car behind and walked towards the front door, ringing the doorbell and again hearing the musical notes playing throughout the house. After a few moments, Hiram opened the door with a simple "Good Morning, Quinn" and allowed her in. It wasn't exactly friendly, but she was glad that she and Rachel's dads had at least come to an uneasy truce the previous night. All things helping Rachel get better were apparently going to be admitted until deemed harmful, Quinn included. "Rachel's still upstairs. I'll just go and get her."

Quinn watched as Hiram ascended the stairs, glancing back only once to see her standing there in the foyer. She wasn't nervous, per se, but she wasn't exactly comfortable either. Quinn was generally charming and well mannered. She was a Fabray, after all. That meant most adults generally fawned over how sweet and well-behaved she was. They never saw the Ice Queen that ruled the halls of McKinley. They instead received the charming daughter persona that Russell and Judy Fabray had cultivated. The cheerleader. The Chastity Ball Princess. The Homecoming Queen. The wholesome, all-American, hometown Ohio girl that people loved. So for Leroy and Hiram to be so suspicious of her, for them to range somewhere between dislike and mistrust, was… off-putting… to say the least.

"Quinn," Leroy said, coming into the living room from the kitchen after a few minutes. He stared at her appraisingly for a moment before shaking his head slightly, clearly still on the fence about her, though that didn't stop him from being a good host. It was something she could appreciate, being a Fabray. "Can I offer you anything? Juice? Soda? Coffee? We've already had breakfast, but there are some bagels left over if you'd like."

"No, thank you," Quinn said, smiling politely. "My mother fixed breakfast before leaving for work this morning, and I was going to stop with Rachel to pick up some coffee for us and Brittana after the grocery store."

"Brittana?" Leroy asked.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said, chuckling. "Brittany and Santana have spent so much time around each other over the last couple of years that a lot of the girls on the Cheerios call them 'Brittana'. It's a portmanteau of their names. You know, like Bennifer or Branjelina?"

"Of course," Leroy said. "But isn't that usually reserved for couples rather than best friends? Rachel never mentioned anything about them dating."

"They're not dating- well, not each other, at least, but…" Quinn blushed slightly, ignoring eye contact with Leroy for a moment while she smiled. "Well, um… Brittany and Santana have an… interesting… friendship."

"Oh," Leroy said, swallowing. At least Quinn wasn't the only one uncomfortable anymore. "Well that's… um…"

"Yeah."

From upstairs, Quinn heard Rachel's voice raise along with Hiram's, the sound of quick angry stomps, and then Rachel was making her way down the stairs. At the bottom she huffed, shooting a furious glare back up the staircase and folding her arms in front of her. "Hello, Quinn," she said angrily.

"Hi?" Quinn responded, arching an eyebrow in question. She noticed Rachel was wearing loose blue jeans with white sneakers and a baggy pink hoodie that said 'I Heart New York' on the front. It was so unlike anything Quinn had ever seen Rachel wear that she was momentarily taken aback. Sure, yesterday Rachel had been wearing casual clothes, but she'd been at home then. Now, going back out into the world, Quinn had expected the reemergence of animal sweaters, argyle, and plaid skirts. Instead, it seemed like this Rachel just wanted to blend in for once.

"Everything okay, baby?" Leroy asked, reaching out a hand to Rachel's shoulder and pulling her in for side hug. She didn't seem as reluctant as she had yesterday, so Quinn was counting that as progress. _Baby steps_, she told herself.

"No," Rachel said, turning to glare at the stairs again. "He is being impossible." Leroy must have heard this kind of criticism before because he kept silent, and after a minute, Rachel continued her complaint. "I was just getting a bag together to take over to Santana's because that's what Quinn said to do last night, and Dad insisted on helping me pack. All I needed was a pair of pajamas and a change of clothes, just in case, right?" She turned to Quinn for confirmation who just nodded slowly, which must have been what Rachel wanted, because she said, "Right! So _that_ man pulled out one of my suitcases and started piling in four different outfits, board games, a flashlight, a first aid kit. Santana's father is a doctor, Daddy. I don't think I'll need a first aid kit."

Leroy smiled and patted Rachel on the head, saying, "Let me talk to him. I'm sure I can pare it down a bit." He started towards the stairs, then looked back at Rachel who was still standing there huffing with fiercely crossed arms, looking away from the stairs. "Was there anything specific you wanted?"

"I had everything packed in my gym bag before he decided to 'help'," Rachel said, uncrossing her arms just long enough to make those ridiculously big air quotes. She looked away from the staircase again, as if the mere sight of it was enough to incite her anger while Leroy diligently made his way up.

Rachel just stood there fuming while Quinn looked around, awkwardly. "So, uh, I like your sweatshirt."

As if just realizing Quinn was there, Rachel's face went from angrily petulant to almost shy. "Thanks," she said, brushing nonexistent lint from the front of it with her non-braced right hand. "I got it a couple of years ago. In New York. Obviously." She chuckled nervously at herself.

"Cool," Quinn said. "I've just never seen you wear it. You always wear those atrocious animal sweaters and the plaid skirts. It's a little odd to see you dressed so…"

"Normally?" Rachel offered.

"I was going to say… something nicer," Quinn said, "but yeah."

"I…" Rachel started, looking up at the stairs again, though this time with an almost wistful look, anger forgotten. "My Dad… Hiram… he likes the way I dress. He used to always pick out my clothes when I was little, and I never really knew any better. I mean, I'd see how the other girls dressed, and I'd sometimes think that I looked different than them, but people dress differently sometimes. My dads always complimented me on how pretty and smart I looked, so I didn't really think too much about it. I mean, until girls started making fun of me for it. Then I realized that a lot of what I wore wasn't as attractive or as flattering as what they wore. I wanted to complain and change my wardrobe, but my Dad was so happy whenever we went clothes shopping that I didn't want to hurt his feelings. He doesn't really know anything about fashion, y'know? Not like… not like a mom would, but… he still tries."

Quinn stood there speechless because, really, every time Rachel said something like that Quinn just wanted to hug her and tell her she was a good person and that it was the world that was wrong. It was people like Quinn that were wrong. How many times had she made fun of Rachel's clothes? Even just now, she hadn't had a second thought about calling Rachel's sweaters 'atrocious'. "Rachel…"

"It's okay, Quinn," Rachel said, shrugging. "You're sorry. I get it. You didn't know. Nobody does." Rachel looked back down at what she was wearing and again brushed at the nonexistent lint. "After everything, though, I just didn't want to draw attention to myself anymore. I just wanted to blend in. To look… normal." Before Quinn could say anything… and really, she didn't know what she was going to say. Another apology? Lie and tell Rachel that her other clothes looked fine? She honestly didn't know. Thankfully, before she could say anything, Rachel said, "You look nice, by the way. I really like that coat."

"Thanks," Quinn said, looking down at her own outfit: white turtleneck, skinny black jeans, leather boots, red pea coat. She had no idea why she'd felt the need to dress up today. Maybe to impress Rachel's fathers? Quinn just knew she wanted to look nice when she came over this morning. "It was a Christmas gift from my mom last year. Or, I guess it would have been if I'd been living there at the time. She finally gave it to me a couple of weeks ago when it started getting colder."

"Well I like it," Rachel said, smiling and reaching out to pull at the lapels of the coat. "Your mom has good taste."

"I'll tell her you think so," Quinn said, returning the smile and reaching up to grab and still Rachel's hands that were nervously playing with her coat. They stood there for a minute, eyes locked on each other with Quinn's hands wrapped around Rachel's smaller, definitely unmanly hands. Where had that stupid nickname even come from? Rachel's hands were soft and beautiful, just like the rest of her, and, God, why couldn't she stop staring at her? She shouldn't be thinking that Rachel is pretty. Beautiful. Whatever. She shouldn't be thinking anything about Rachel that isn't just friendly or trying to help her get better. Releasing her hands and taking a step back, Quinn added, "She'll, um, be glad to hear it."

Suddenly, there were footsteps on the stairs, and Quinn looked towards the staircase where Leroy and Hiram were coming down. "I talked your father into going with your original packing job," Leroy said, smiling triumphantly as he made his way down the stairs carrying a small overnight bag. Hiram looked to be doing his best not to pout, and, really, genetics were amazing because she could totally see where Rachel got that from. The pushiness, the pout, the dramatic attitude. Quinn had gotten to know Shelby a bit throughout the adoption process, and Rachel definitely got her looks from her, but personality…? She was absolutely Hiram's daughter.

"I still don't see what's wrong with being prepared," Hiram said, frowning. "Monopoly is a perfectly acceptable game, and a few extra outfits never hurt anyone."

"Can we just go?" Rachel asked Quinn once she'd taken her bag from Leroy and shouldered it, doing her best to ignore Hiram.

"Soon," Quinn said. Rachel wanted to argue, but Quinn was holding up a hand to silence her, something that was becoming commonplace. Had it always been that easy to silence Rachel? Quinn had to imagine that if it had, someone else would have figured it out by now. But that led to other questions… Was this 'new' Rachel just more easily influenced into being quiet, or was it just Quinn that could now easily silence her? "I still need to get your meds and make sure I'm not forgetting anything. Then we'll be going. Okay?"

"Fine." Rachel huffed, matching her Dad's mood.

Quinn grinned at the both of them, following Leroy into the kitchen as he again told her about Rachel's medicine chart. There was the antidepressant, the antianxiety pills as needed, and the pain medication for her healing wrists. Leroy explicitly forbade alcohol of any kind, not only because the girls were underage but also because of the reactions it could have with Rachel's medication. Quinn assured her there would be no alcohol, not even spiked eggnog or rum cake. "The last time I got drunk, I made a mistake that changed my life," Quinn said, absentmindedly running a hand over her flat stomach. "It's not something I'm thinking about doing any time soon."

Leroy appraised her for a moment before reluctantly handing her the pill bottles. "Quinn…" he started, shaking his head. "You'll understand my difficulty here. I guess I'm just having trouble reconciling the girl in front of me, the girl I met at the hospital, with the girl I read about in those letters. I know people can change, but… she's my daughter. You're her bully. The reason she used to come home crying every day. I don't know if-"

"Daddy? Quinn?" Rachel asked, walking into the kitchen. "It's just medicine. It shouldn't be taking this long." Seeing the way Leroy was standing, arms crossed and looking down at Quinn, Rachel started to get upset. "Daddy, you're not lecturing Quinn are you? We talked about this. You can't-"

"No, it's fine, Rachel," Quinn said, smiling back at her. "Your dad was just telling me that we shouldn't stay up too late or do anything too active because the pain meds might make you sleepy. It's cool."

"Oh," Rachel said, grinning. "That's okay, then. We won't do anything too active, Daddy." She went over to him, and he pulled her into a hug, looking over his daughter's head at Quinn who just shrugged. "We're just watching movies."

"Right, right, I know, Rae-Rae," Leroy said. "You know how we worry about you, though. Especially now." He pulled away from her, breaking the embrace but still keeping his hands on her shoulder and stooping down to look Rachel in the eye. "And if anything, and I really do mean anything, happens that upsets you or makes you feel uncomfortable or upset, no matter what, you know that you can call either your Dad or I and we'll be there to pick you up, right?"

"I know, Daddy," Rachel said, reaching up to kiss Leroy on the cheek. "So we can go now, right? I don't want to make us late."

Leroy sighed again, finally letting Rachel go. They turned to leave, but Leroy put out a hand, stopping Quinn. Once Rachel was out of earshot, Leroy added, "Quinn, I was thinking about what you said earlier. About your friends. Be sure to tell them that if they ever need someone to talk to, Hiram and I are here. We know how difficult it is being gay in a town like this."

"I don't…" Quinn stuttered, taken aback. "You'd… you'd do that? Even after everything with Rachel and… and everything in the letters?"

"There's not exactly an abundance of role models in this town for people like us," Leroy said, and Quinn quirked an eyebrow. Did he mean 'us' as in 'Hiram and I' or 'us' as in 'you and I'? "We know how hard it can be."

"That would be…," Quinn started, carefully guarding her words. "Thanks. I'm sure they'll appreciate the offer, even if they don't take you up on it. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Quinn." Leroy patted her on the back and led her out of the kitchen towards Rachel and Hiram in the living room. "And if you know anyone else who could benefit from our area of expertise, feel free to pass that information on to them as well." Leroy added, looking at her knowingly.

There was a split-second there where Quinn knew her face betrayed her before she felt that familiar Fabray mask of fake cordiality and calm indifference fall back into place. For a moment, though she had been thankful. No, not her. Stupid fucking Lucy Caboosey and her fucking need for acceptance that reminded Quinn so much of the Rachel that she hated. Ugh. Fucking weak. But, whatever. Fuck Leroy Berry. He didn't know anything about her. "I'll do that," Quinn said, fake smile firmly in place. "Though, besides Kurt, I don't know _anybody_ that could." Before he could respond, she was already walking towards the door, looking back at Rachel. "Ready?"

She must have caught some of this new tension because Rachel looked questioningly between Quinn and Leroy before nervously saying, "…yes?"

"Good," Quinn said, tone icy as she slipped her sunglasses into place and opened the door. "We really should be going. Hate to be late and all."

Hugging her fathers goodbye, Rachel again shouldered her bag and followed Quinn out to her red convertible VW Beetle. Quinn opened Rachel's door, took the bag from her, and threw it in the backseat with her own Cheerios duffel bag. Once Rachel was in the car, Quinn closed her door and went around to the driver's side, getting in and taking off. Rachel looked in her mirror at her fathers watching from down the street at the retreating car.

The drive to the grocery store was silent as Quinn stared out at the road, angrily thinking about what Leroy had said… well, implied. 'People like us'. How dare he judge her like that? He had no right. None. She'd done nothing but be kind to him, his husband, and his daughter since they'd met, and now he insulted her like this? She wasn't gay. She _wasn't_. Lucy might have had certain… interests… in girls, but Quinn wasn't following through on them. It wasn't a thought that made someone a bad person, but an action, right? Like, she'd been mad at people before and randomly thought about running them down with her car, but that didn't make her a murderer. It was only if she'd actually done it that would have made it wrong. Likewise, thoughts about girls didn't make someone gay, it was actually doing it. The sin is in the action, not the thought. Isn't that what they said? Someone, somewhere? God, it was too early for this. She just wanted to sit around and watch Christmas movies and not think about any girls for the-

"Quinn?" Rachel asked, interrupting her thoughts. Right. She was totally just going to relax and _not_ think about girls while bringing her own personal temptation with her. Fuck. This was such a stupid idea. What the hell was she thinking? Not only would Rachel be there, looking all sad and pathetic making Quinn want to just hug her and comfort her, but she was also going to have to dodge Santana's snarky remarks about… well, everything… _and_ she'd have to probably watch Santana and Brittany cuddling the entire time. Double fuck. This whole stupid day was already starting to piss her off. God, this was worse than the emotional, hormonal pregnant wreck she'd been last year.

"Quinn is…?" Rachel started to ask something, but once Quinn was actually looking her way, she seemed to change her mind. "Nothing. Forget it."

"What, Berry?" Quinn snapped, a little harsher than she meant.

"No, it's nothing," Rachel said even quieter and went back to looking out the window. Whatever. Let her pout. It was an accident. Quinn wasn't going to apologize for losing her temper. It was _Rachel's _dad that had pissed her off, anyway.

As they pulled up to the grocery store, Quinn surveyed the parking lot and mumbled another curse or two. It was early on a Thursday morning, and she had hoped there wouldn't be too many people out shopping. Apparently the fact that it was only two days until Christmas dashed those hopes, though. She pulled into the parking lot as close as she could, hoping that the crowd wouldn't make her too late. They still had the Lima Bean to hit for coffee, and Quinn really wanted nothing more than to lose herself in some Christmas movies for a few hours.

As soon as Quinn was out of the car, she was walking around to Rachel's side and opening the door for her and helping her out of the car. "Oh, um, thanks," Rachel said, grinning. "I can still open doors, though."

"Right, of course," Quinn said, mentally smacking herself in the forehead because that's something that she just refused to do in real life. Of course Rachel could open a door. _God, get it together, Fabray_. With an icy tone that Rachel didn't deserve, Quinn added, "I was just trying to help, Berry." Because she was Quinn Fabray and she didn't do 'nice' or 'helpful'. This being around Rachel, this wanting to take care of her, it was making her soft and weak and basically driving her crazy. She wouldn't stand for it.

"I appreciate the thought, Quinn," Rachel said as they made their way to the entrance, though the smile was gone from her face. She was either ignoring her bitchiness or so used to it after the last couple of years that she no longer questioned it, and then Quinn was feeling even guiltier for snapping at Rachel. She hadn't done anything to warrant it. She was just being concerned for Quinn because clearly she was upset about something. Ugh. Fucking Leroy and his incriminations. She'd been having such a good morning.

The doors opened automatically as they walked up to the store, Rachel staying a half step behind Quinn. She wasn't sure if Rachel was upset with her for snapping at her or just used to being behind the Head Bitch that Quinn had been… still was… whatever, but either way, it was annoying. Yet she couldn't lash out at her again so soon for something so little. She wasn't that horrible, was she? Then again, she was being all Icy-Bitch-Quinn on her for something her dad did, so she wasn't exactly a saint, either.

Deciding to not think about it too hard right now, Quinn grabbed a basket as they passed by them and headed towards the snack food aisle. She knew Santana loved some kind of freakishly hot habanero chips, so she went straight toward the potato chips. She was screwing up Santana's movie marathon for the second year in a row, and, okay, Santana was a bitch, but she still felt bad about it. So Quinn snatched up a bag as she walked by as a peace offering, looking back at Rachel as she did to make sure she was still following her and not off somewhere pouting.

Looking at Rachel, she was struck by a sudden memory of herself, probably four or five years old, following her mother around this same grocery store. Little Lucy Fabray, a pudgy girl with brown hair and glasses, holding a basket like a 'big girl' just like Judy Fabray who was smiling down at her. She wanted so bad to carry something in her basket, just like her mom was doing.

It was a simple memory, a nothing memory, but seeing Rachel following slightly behind her and carrying her own basket that Quinn hadn't even realized she'd picked up reminded her just how alike Rachel and Lucy were. It also reminded Quinn of some of the reasons she'd hated Rachel in the first place. It seemed like everything that Quinn had to change about herself to become the person she was now, Rachel had just accepted about herself. Was that why she hated Rachel? Because she reminded her of Lucy? God, this was too heavy for grocery shopping.

"You should just get whatever you want," Quinn said after staring at Rachel for a while as the girl studied the chips section with her 'serious face'. She held up Santana's chips to Rachel. "I'm just getting these for Santana, as kind of a…" She stopped, imagining that conversation playing out in her head. '_Bribe.' 'For what, Quinn?' 'In order for her to be nice to you when she clearly doesn't like you.' Yeah, that'll go over well,_ she thought. "…as a thanks for letting us spend today at her house again this year. Her dad has a really nice setup in the basement. Anyway, then I thought I'd get some popcorn and some of those Starburst Jelly Beans for myself, and Brittany said she was bringing gummy worms and cookies and Red Bull. So, really, whatever you want is fine. Go nuts." Then her eyes lit up, because, ooh, she had forgot about those honey roasted cashews that she used to share with her mom many Christmases ago. This was one of the few times a year that they let themselves go, snack-food-wise, and Quinn wasn't going to waste the opportunity. "I'll be right back," she said, already walking away to go get them.

She walked down a little ways to the cans and jars of nuts, checking out different selections. She grabbed a can of the honey roasted cashews, reconsidered for a second, and then grabbed a second can for home. It'd be nice to share with her mom again. Quinn also snagged a jar of some kind of 'Five Alarm Chili' peanuts, also for Santana. When it came to food at least, she knew her friend lived up to her 'Satan' nickname. Though now that she'd gotten Santana two things, she couldn't not get Brittany something, so, casting another glance at Rachel who was still studying potato chips bags, Quinn quickly walked an aisle over to the candy section and picked up some Starburst Jellybeans for her and some gummy bears for Brittany.

As Quinn was leaving the candy section, an idea hit her and she started looking around at the candy again. She was getting things for Santana and Brittany, but not for Rachel. That didn't seem right. Quinn had invited her, wanted to make her a part of today. It was only right that she be treated the same as her actual… as her other friends. 'No, go ahead, Q. Finish that thought' her inner Santana said. Quinn had to wonder… was Rachel an actual friend? She wanted her to be. But why? Why now? Was it because Rachel had almost died and Quinn felt responsible? Or because facing the idea of losing Rachel made Quinn want to keep her closer in her life? Damn, what was it about this morning that was causing her to be all introspective? _Focus, Quinn_, she thought. _Today is just about movies and candy and friends. God, please just let it be about that. Please._

Deciding that it didn't matter if Rachel was a friend or not, Quinn knew she still wanted to do something nice for her. Looking around, she noticed some dark chocolate covered almonds. From what she knew about veganism- _wait, is that even a word?_ Quinn wondered- they should be vegan friendly. Dark chocolate wasn't the same as milk chocolate, and almonds were definitely okay. Scouring the ingredients, Quinn didn't see anything that screamed 'made from animal', so she figured they were safe.

While on that aisle, Quinn also picked out some movie theater buttered popcorn. She had no idea if the butter movie theaters used was any different than regular butter, or if this popcorn was even buttered with butter from an actual movie theater, but they were watching movies today so she just decided to keep with the theme and get it.

Looking around, she couldn't see anything else she would need to get, so Quinn went back over to the chip aisle to find Rachel holding a bag of chips excitedly and looking around. Once she spotted Quinn, she rushed over, saying, "Look, they have Garden of Eatin'. They're vegan friendly and organic and really good. You have to try them."

Quinn stared at the chips in the excited brunette's hand for a moment. "They're blue."

"They're blue corn," Rachel said. "They're supposed to be blue."

"Rachel, corn isn't blue."

"But," Rachel faltered, looking from the bag to Quinn then back to the bag. "But it's blue corn. It's a thing."

"And yet I'm fairly certain if we went over to the corn right now, it'd be either white or yellow," Quinn said. "Or creamed. But definitely not blue."

Rachel held the bag up and pointed at the words in big bold type. "It says right here, 'blue corn'. I don't think they can lie about it. That'd be false advertising."

"Really, I don't think there's such a thing as…" but something had caught Quinn's attention from the corner of her eye. There were two middle aged women standing there talking and looking right at Rachel and Quinn. She was sure that she didn't know them, and decided that they must be someone Rachel, or possibly her dads, knew. "Rachel, do you know those two women over there?"

Rachel followed Quinn's line of sight and at the same time that Rachel lay eyes on them, the truth of it hit Quinn. They weren't talking so much as whispering and pointing at Rachel. They were better at it than the girls at school, but she knew the looks and that type of gossipy, conspiratorial attitude from the women at her former church. Except this time, they were gossiping about Rachel and her.

Quinn's cheeks reddened slightly from the perceived embarrassment. People would know she was out with Rachel Berry, and while she may actually be having a decent time, Quinn's own bitchiness aside, it wasn't good for her reputation. She still wanted to be popular. Who didn't?

"No, I don't know them. Why? Are they… oh," Rachel said, catching on as her voice lost that previous happiness and excitement. She ducked her head and turned away from them, away from Quinn, too, as she caught the look on her face. "I shouldn't have… this was stupid. I'm sorry. I'll just go wait in the car."

"No, wait," Quinn said, reaching out and grabbing a retreating Rachel's good hand and turning her back towards her. "Don't go. You don't have to apologize for anything. They're the ones being rude. Here, let's just get our stuff and go, okay? We still have a ton of movies to look forward to, right?"

Rachel was silent for a minute, refusing to meet Quinn's eyes, and Quinn thought she was going to break down in the store. Finally, she said, "Will you… will you just take me home? Daddy was right. I should have just stayed home. Will you please take me home?"

"No," Quinn said, probably a little too forcefully. "I mean… yes, I'll take you home if you really want me to, but… I wish you wouldn't. Brittany's looking forward to seeing you, and Santana… well, you know, she'll be there. And I really want you there."

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked, looking up. She looked half hopeful, half doubtful. "Because you've been mad since we left, and I don't even know what I did wrong. I feel like I guilted you into inviting me last night, and I don't want to be there if you don't want me there. I'm sure Santana doesn't want me there already, and if Brittany is the only one happy to see me, I'd rather just stay at home. I know my dads want me there with them, even if they don't want to be there with each other."

"Rachel, I _do_ want you there," Quinn said. "And I haven't been mad at you, I've just been…" Two forces were at war within her. She'd promised to tell Rachel the truth, but she couldn't tell her that Leroy thought she was gay. She couldn't tell the truth, yet she didn't want to lie to her. Quinn sighed. "Being around Leroy last night and then again this morning. He clearly doesn't like me or trust me to be around you. It's just… I don't know… grating, I guess. I let that put me in a bad mood, and I'm sorry if I took that out on you, okay?" There. A half-truth. That was better than outright lying, right?

"Oh," Rachel said, eyebrows furrowing, looking down at nothing. "He seemed okay this morning, if a little hesitant for me to be going. I'll have to have a talk with him when-"

"No!" Quinn all but yelled at her, causing a startled Rachel to jump and suddenly refocus on her. Quinn looked around, and okay, now the women down at the end of the aisle were blatantly staring and clearly whispering behind their hands, but whatever. 'Fuck those nosey bitches, Q', her inner Santana said. "I mean, please don't. You can't just talk to him or yell at him and expect him to like me. He has to do that on his own."

"But-"

"No, Rachel," Quinn said. "This is something between me and him that we need to work out. He doesn't trust me, and that's okay. Maybe he will one day."

"This is my fault, though," Rachel said. "If I hadn't written those letters then-"

"No it's not." Again Quinn interrupted her, because for Rachel to be blaming herself was just insane. "This is entirely my fault. If I hadn't bullied you, then there wouldn't have been anything to write about. It's not like Tina or Artie or even Brittany were in those letters, right?" Rachel nodded, eyes unfocused as if remembering the words she'd put down.

Quinn wanted so badly to read those letters, if for no other reason than as a reminder of what she had done and what she would never do again. Bullying Rachel had become so second nature to her that she often did things without even consciously thinking about them. Now Quinn was trying to be conscious of every action. It was honestly exhausting but she was trying to change. What was the saying?

'Be careful what you think.  
Your thoughts become your words.  
Your words become your actions.  
Your actions become your habits.  
Your habits become your character.  
Your character becomes your destiny.'

Or something like that. The change had started with the baby, getting pregnant and thrown off the Cheerios and finding out who her true friends were. As it turns out, the 'losers' that she had bullied were more loyal than the Cheerios ever were. Going back to the Cheerios this year hadn't been about going back to her 'friends'. It had been about regaining her popularity and status within the school, as well as a love of cheerleading. Now, with Rachel, seeing firsthand how she had suffered and what it had done to her… what it had driven her to… There was no way Quinn would ever go back down that path again.

"It's my fault, Rachel," Quinn said, causing the brunette to look back up at her. "Not yours." Rachel looked like she wanted to argue, because, really, when didn't the little diva want to argue, but Quinn cut her off. "Mine. Now let's go, okay?"

Quinn pulled Rachel along, basket, chips, and all towards the checkout line. On the way, Rachel grabbed a box of iCarly Fruit by the Foot and a bag of Sour Patch Kids. Quinn didn't comment on those. Let Brittany guilt her about that one.

After paying for all their stuff and loading up Quinn's car, they headed out again. On the way out, Quinn had noticed that nearly everyone in the grocery store was staring at Quinn and Rachel. Quinn was used to people staring at school, but this was the real world and these were grown women pointing and staring and whispering. Had they no shame? Was one troubled girl doing what Rachel did really that interesting? Or was it the fact of who Rachel was, the girl with the gay dads, that made it such a big deal? People wanted to be right even if it was about something horrible. This whole situation must have made the people that hated Leroy and Hiram just for being gay so happy.

At the Lima Bean, Rachel had decided to stay in the car, even through Quinn's poking and prodding of trying to get her out. Quinn wanted her to get back into the world like nothing had happened, the same way she used to go about cleaning herself off after a slushie attack and come out of the bathroom smiling and just as determined. As much as it used to annoy Quinn to no end, she knew she'd rather see that Rachel than this broken one. At least then she wouldn't have to feel so guilty all the time. Quinn knew she couldn't push her, though. Whatever Rachel needed to do to get better, Quinn would help her with it, pushing her when she needed to and backing off when the girl wouldn't budge. It was a fine line to walk, but, one day, when she saw Rachel's name up in lights and could point to her and say 'I used to know her', then she knew that it would all be worth it. Rachel was better than this town, better than these people. She wouldn't let it or them bring her down and stomp on her. Not anymore. Not after seeing the very real consequences.

In the Lima Bean, she bought four very specific drinks for herself, Brittany, Santana, and Rachel. Everyone had a specific order, excluding Rachel who was being all depressed after seeing how the people at the grocery store had acted. Rachel had just said to get her "whatever", so Quinn had picked some kind of vegan-friendly, fruit-flavor-infused soy thing.

Back at the car, Quinn handed Rachel the tray, pointing out her drink and saying, "It's vegan, and the girl at the counter said it was popular. I hope you like it."

Rachel took a sip, her eyes lighting up a little bit. "It's really good." She took another sip and smiled. "Raspberry?"

"And coconut," Quinn said, pulling out of the Lima Bean. She glanced over and saw Rachel looking at the names on the sides of the cups, stopping when she came to Quinn's own drink and sniffing it.

"Oh my God, what is this?" Rachel asked, taking another sniff, scrunching her eyes to savor the aroma of it. "It smells amazing."

Quinn smiled at the girl's overenthusiasm at her coffee drink. She had to wonder, though… Was this back and forth of emotions a side effect of the medication Rachel was on, or had she just never spent enough free time around the brunette to notice it? In the last hour, she'd gone from excitement to melancholy to happiness to anxious to bossy to depressed and back to happy and excited again. It was almost tiring being around her, but it was also kind of interesting, never knowing what would come next. Rachel was probably a ridiculously high maintenance girlfriend. How had Finn ever been able to keep up? Rachel needed someone willing to put in the work.

"It's the Head Bitch special," Quinn said, laughing. "Santana named it. I would always punish the Cheerios by making them go get me one without writing it down, and if they got it wrong, I would make them keep going back until they got it right. It's an extra-large hot coffee—half coffee, half hot chocolate, with a shot of espresso, three pumps of mocha, three pumps of caramel swirl, six creams and four liquid sugars."

"And does it come with an insulin shot?" Rachel asked, chuckling. It was a beautiful sound, one Quinn hadn't heard nearly enough in the last week, and it made Quinn laugh, too.

"No, but I did have to stay away from them while I was pregnant," Quinn said, smiling. "San was giving me a hard enough time about the size of my butt as it was. I wasn't about to give her more ammo to insult me with."

"Also, lots of sugary snacks while pregnant can lead to gestational diabetes," Rachel said. "It's bad for the baby."

"I guess," Quinn said, trying not to think about that particular subject. "It's not vegan, but you can try it if you want."

Rachel placed her own drink in the cup holder and pulled Quinn's from the cardboard tray. Quinn glanced over, mesmerized at the way Rachel's pink lip-glossed lips attached onto the spout in the lid of her cup. She felt a fluttery motion in the pit of her stomach at the thought about drinking from the cup later, putting her lips over where Rachel's lips had been. Rachel took a dainty little sip that was very cute and very small and very Rachel. The near orgasmic look that overtook her face a split-second later as the drink registered on her tongue sent shivers through Quinn, though she blamed the cold and cut the heat up another notch. She was not getting off on watching Rachel drink coffee. That would just be wrong.

"Good?" Quinn asked, smiling.

"Oh, God, Quinn," Rachel said. "I think I'm in love." The fluttery thing in Quinn's stomach was there again, and she thought this couldn't possibly be more wrong… until Rachel's next statement. "This is the best thing I've ever put in my mouth." And then there were dirty thoughts that Quinn couldn't seem to get under control all the way to Santana's house.

Upon reaching the Lopez house, Quinn got out of the car and again went over to Rachel's side to open the door for her and help her out of the car. This time Rachel seemed to know enough not to say anything, and Quinn decided that if Rachel wasn't going to mention it, neither would Quinn. They got their bags out of the car, Quinn carrying most of it since Rachel only had the one good arm, and even then it probably wasn't a good idea to carry much with the stitches healing. When they got to the door, Quinn hit the doorbell as best she could.

They waited there for a minute until the door suddenly opened and Santana was standing there, one hand on her hip. She wore William McKinley High School sweats and a t-shirt, hair swept back in a bun on the top of her head. "You look like an overdressed pack mule, Q," she said as he eyes raked over the outfit Quinn was wearing. Turning her head slightly to the left, she eyed Rachel. "Berry." It was noncommittal, not friendly but not insulting. It was about all that Quinn could have hoped for. "Did you bitches bring me coffee?" Rachel held out the cup with Santana's name on it. Santana reached out, took it from her, sniffed it once, then took a sip from it. After closing her eyes and savoring it for a moment, she stepped aside. "Then you can come in."

"So nice, San," Quinn said, lugging the bags through the door. "No, don't help or anything. I got it."

"Good," Santana said, shutting the door. "Wasn't planning on it."

They followed Santana through the kitchen where Quinn said hello to Santana's mom as they passed while Rachel stayed shy and silent, then down the steps and into the basement. Santana's father had at some point sectioned off the basement, turning half of it into a sort of game room for the kids while the parents used the upstairs den. They'd put in an overstuffed couches and a couple of chairs, a television so big that it almost hurt to look at, a few different video game consoles, a giant metallic refrigerator, a pool table, and a ping pong table. The television was on one end of the basement with couch and chairs facing it. There was a bar on one side of the room that would have held alcohol had Santana's parents trusted her in the slightest, while on the other side was a thick door that led to storage areas and Dr. Lopez's workshop where he built birdhouses or painted lawn ornaments or whatever current hobby he was working on. That side of the basement had a separate staircase that led up to another part of the house, so they rarely saw Dr. Lopez while hanging out in the basement. With both Santana's older brother and sister moved out, the Lopez basement had become something of an unofficial hangout for the Unholy Trinity.

"Quinn! Rachel!" Brittany shouted, rushing up to them as if she hadn't seen them in years. She threw her arms around Quinn who was still loaded down with bags, squeezing her, and somehow coming away with a couple of the bags that she helped sit down on the bar. Turning to face Rachel, Brittany was a little more careful, taking the coffee from her and setting it down on the bar before pulling her into an almost gentle hug. To Quinn, it looked like Brittany thought the brunette might break if she squeezed too tight. Santana and Quinn exchanged a curious look and an arched eyebrow as they watched the two girls hugging, Rachel's arms out to the side like she didn't know how to return it. Then, Brittany was letting her go, and Rachel was standing there looking uncomfortable, but at least she was smiling, if somewhat reservedly.

"So what's in the bags?" Santana said, starting to rifle through them. Quinn reached out and smacked her hand, and Santana looked up angrily. "Hey!"

"Be nice, San," Quinn said, teasing her, "or you don't get anything that I brought you."

Santana wanted to argue, but her curiosity and greediness seemed to win out over her anger. Reaching into the bag, Quinn pulled out the bag of chips she'd picked out especially for her and handed them to Santana.

Santana smiled a huge smile, rare for her, and snatched the bag from Quinn. "A girl after my own heart," she said, holding the chips to her chest. "See, that's why I love you."

"Only when you want something," Quinn said, smirking. "Don't think I'm not on to your tricks, Lopez."

"Tricks?" Santana asked, mock hurt. "You wound me woman."

"Don't tempt me," Quinn said.

"Besides," Santana started, ignoring Quinn's joking threat. "I gots my chips. What else would I want from you?"

Quinn reached into another bag, and from there she pulled out the jar of Five Alarm Chili peanuts and tossed them to Santana. She caught the jar and glanced at the label, eyes lighting up. "Now be nice."

"Yes, ma'am," Santana said, saluting her then walking away, turning the salute into flipping her off as she walked away.

"Britts, I knew I couldn't get San something without getting you something," Quinn said, pulling the bag of gummy bears from the grocery bag, "It wouldn't be fair. And you said you were bringing gummy worms, so I thought you might want some gummy variety."

"Ooh, thanks," Brittany said, throwing her arms around Quinn and squeezing her again. "Now my gummy worms will have someone to ride them! I wonder if they make gummy saddles?" she asked, walking away.

Once Santana and Brittany were out of earshot and opening their snacks, Rachel started taking her own junk food out of her grocery bag. "Those were bribes, weren't they?" she asked, not meeting Quinn's eyes.

"I never said they were bribes," Quinn said, automatically defending herself and her friends. "Can't I just do a nice thing for my friends?"

"It's okay," Rachel said quietly, turning to face her. "I know they don't really like me. If you had to bribe them to let me come over, then… thanks. I'm sure it'll be worth it. I know today's special for you three, a tradition, so I'll try not to ruin it."

"Rachel," Quinn said, trying to draw her attention from emptying her grocery bag and setting up her snacks on the bar. When Rachel wouldn't meet her eyes, Quinn reached out and cupped her chin, turning her head slightly so the girl would meet her eyes. "Rachel, chill out, okay? They weren't bribes. If they were bribes, would I have gotten you-" Quinn let go of her chin and reached into the bag, pulling out the package of dark chocolate covered almonds- "these?"

Rachel took them in her hands, holding them and staring down at them like they were some kind of treasure. Had no one done anything nice for this girl? Her dads had to have given her things before just because they were thinking of her. Leroy and Hiram seemed like the best parents, even if their marriage sucked. And surely Finn… okay, no, Finn was a terrible gift giver and kind of clueless as a boyfriend and barely brighter than Brittany, so no. Probably not. Fucking sigh.

"Thank you, Quinn," Rachel said. "I apologize. I never meant to impugn your honor. I was being thoughtless. If you say that you didn't have to bribe your friends to get them to let me stay over today and watch movies with you, then I should have trusted that you were being honest with me. I'm sorry."

Well, shit. Now she felt bad. "Apology accepted," Quinn said. "Now if we can just-"

"Q, this bribe is delicious!" Santana called out around a mouthful of peanuts. Quinn and Rachel both turned to see Santana sitting sideways in a chair and dropping peanuts into her mouth. "Little dry, though. Can you bring me a water?"

Quinn turned back towards Rachel and met her gaze, finding that she was closer to laughing rather than pouting or crying, so yay. Quinn let a small smile peak through, thinking that if Santana wasn't listening in, she had just amazing timing. "I never said it wasn't a bribe. I just said that I never said it was. Only for Santana, though. Brittany really is glad you came over, and… so am I."

Quinn held Rachel's gaze, looking deep into her chocolate brown eyes, watching as the emotions played over them, through them. She wanted so bad to do… something… all of a sudden, but she had no idea what. Maybe hug her? Definitely touch her in some way. Comfort her. Touching was comforting, right? Though she wasn't sure just how she wanted to touch her, and that gave her pause. Everything felt so on edge when she was around Rachel.

"If you bitches are don't making out in there, we'd like to watch some movies at some point," Santana said, causing both of them to blush and look away from each other. Damn her timing.

Quinn left Rachel and went to the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of water for Santana. She then picked up her cup of coffee and the can of honey roasted cashews and went towards where Santana was sitting still splayed across one of the chairs rather than sitting in it. She dropped the water bottle on Santana's stomach, causing the Latina, who had been staring at Brittany's legs in the skimpy pair of shorts she was wearing, to grunt and curse.

"Rachel, come sit with me," Brittany said, grabbing her upper arm and guiding her to the couch. "You look like you could use someone to snuggle with since you're all sad and stuff, and I don't think Quinn's going to because Santana made her all embarrassed. We can share my gummy bears. You can even have the red ones, if you want."

"Oh, um, thanks, Brittany," Rachel said, sitting down beside the taller cheerleader. "But I brought my own candy. I have some Fruit by the Foot and some Sour Patch Kids, and-"

"Rachel, no," Brittany said, looking sad. "If you buy them, then you're just contributing to their problem." Seeing the look on Rachel's face, Brittany added, "Sour Patch Kids are just gummy bears that turned to drugs. If you buy them, then you're saying that drugs are okay. Drugs are never okay, Rachel." The last part she added sternly, as if she needed to teach Rachel.

"No, it's… well," Rachel started. "The crystals aren't drugs. It's the sour. It's like…" She bit her lip, thinking, and the thing in Quinn's stomach did the fluttery thing again as she stared at that lip, so she decided to look away. "It's like magic pixie dust. You know, it's what makes them more special than regular gummy bears."

"But it's sour," Brittany said, confused. "I thought pixie dust would be sweeter."

"Not this kind of pixie dust," Rachel said. "They have the sour on the outside so you'll enjoy the sweet on the inside even more. That way, not everyone can get to the sweet, because not everyone is willing to go through the sour. It makes the person that eats them as special as they are, because they're willing to go through it with them."

"Like Santana," Brittany said, suddenly lighting up. All eyes were on her suddenly as she explained. "It's like the way Santana is sour on the outside but sweet on the inside, but not many people know it because they're not willing to get through all the sour. "

Santana was watching Brittany from where she lay across the chair. Brittany was smiling a huge smile at Rachel, who was looking a little confused. Quinn only had eyes for Rachel, though. That was really deep for a conversation about candy, but she should have known better. Brittany got people. It was what Rachel had said, though, that stuck with Quinn. '…because they're willing to go through it with them'. It's like she thought back at the grocery store. Rachel deserved someone willing to put in the work. Just like Sour Patch Kids, apparently.

"Can I have some of your Sour Patch Kids, Rachel?" Brittany asked, already going to get them from the bar. "I want to see if they're as delicious as Santana is." Quinn turned red and looked away while Santana choked on peanuts. Thankfully, Rachel either didn't seem to get the comment or was ignoring it completely.

"Sure," Rachel said, reaching out for Brittany's gummy bears. "We can trade."

"No," Brittany said, coming back with them and plopping down on the couch, right next to Rachel. "We can share. Because we're like gummy bears, y'know, without all the sour, but Quinn and Santana are like our Sour Patch Kids." They both put a few of each in their mouths and bit down, and the face that Rachel made said that it had to be a weird taste combination. Around a mouth full of gummies, Brittany added, "And since Quinn is your Sour Patch Kid, I think it'd be totally hot if you ate her, too, like I do with San sometimes." Unfortunately, Rachel got that one.

* * *

Apparently 'Christmas movie marathon' was something of a misnomer, Rachel realized. It was more like 'Christmas anything that could be played on Santana's oversized basement television'. Brittany had argued that since Rachel was new there that she should have first choice. Rachel tried to decline, especially after the look Santana shot her, but Brittany was adamant. As they called out choices to her, Rachel noticed that Brittany's eyes lit up when she said some South Park episode so she chose that one.

It was odd, being there with Brittany. She wasn't the cruel person that Santana was, and she wasn't Rachel's definitely-not-a-crush-sunken-ship that Quinn happened to be. She was just… nice. And they really did seem to get along… well, after that incredibly awkward moment that had Rachel blushing red and unable to look at Quinn for the next half hour. Rachel found she liked Brittany's child-like, innocent view of the world. It was easier than her own life, at least. So to make Brittany happy, she chose some episode of South Park that Brittany had suggested. She'd heard it was a crude cartoon, but, really, how bad could it be? It was called 'Woodland Critter Christmas'. It sounded fun.

It wasn't. It was horrifying. There was a blood orgy. _A blood orgy_. What kind of cartoon was this? After that, Rachel refused to pick anything else, and the three cheerleaders continued as they would have had Rachel not been there, which was basically to call out movie or television titles until all three of them could agree on one.

"What about 'Mickey's Christmas Carol'?"

"We just watched a cartoon, Britts."

"That wasn't a real cartoon. It was South Park."

"Still counts."

"'Black Christmas'?"

"Horror movie. Pass."

"'Santa's Slay'?"

"Also pass."

"It's funny."

"It's an hour and a half of Santa committing holiday themed murder."

"Like I said, funny."

"_So_ not funny."

"Grunch."

"Are you quoting Victorious?"

"…no."

"How about 'It's a Wonderful Life'?"

"Veto."

"You only get one, Q. Are you sure?"

Rachel sat on the couch with her arms wrapped around her knees. Brittany had left her to sit on the coffee table in the middle of the couches and chairs and was flipping through a binder full of discs. She knew the story of the movie. A man tries to commit suicide but is stopped by an angel who shows him how life would have been worse for him never having been born. She was fairly certain that she couldn't sit through it without crying with it hitting so close to home. And she was already feeling weirdly quiet and withdrawn right now because of her meds. Or, at least she was blaming the meds instead of the fact that she was trying desperately not to think about ruining today for everyone there. She was sure she could. A breakdown, her crying somewhere in the corner while Quinn tried to get her to take a pill. She could ruin their tradition just by letting herself go off on some mental path of anxiety and craziness. So, instead of doing that, she was sitting there, arms wrapped around her knees, doing her best to keep it together so everyone wouldn't hate her.

Rachel looked up and locked eyes with Quinn and tried to smile, but it got stuck somewhere and wouldn't come out. Instead, what Rachel let out was more of a grimace, and Quinn said, "I'm sure. Definite veto." Dropping her voice, Quinn asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Rachel said, and this time the smile did make it up, even if just for a second. "Thanks." She hoped her eyes conveyed just how thankful she was that Quinn had used her one veto to help her. And she would do her best to keep it together for her.

They finally settled on 'Love, Actually' which wasn't a holiday movie strictly speaking, but it was set around Christmas, and that was apparently close enough for their rules.

About an hour into the movie, Quinn's phone rang. She glanced at the screen, then back at everyone in the basement, eyes landing on Rachel. "I really need to get this," she said apologetically. Santana had already hit the pause button on the remote, and Quinn was taking her phone and heading upstairs. Clearly it wasn't the type of phone call the others needed to hear. Just before the bend in the staircase, she looked back down and locked eyes with Rachel again, smiling before continuing up to the rest of the house. Rachel heard the door close behind her. She suddenly realized she was all alone with Santana and Brittany. At least Brittany was okay. She wasn't sure she could deal with Santana by-

"I have to go pee," Brittany announced to the rest of the room, hopping up from where she was sitting snuggled into Rachel. She followed the staircase Quinn had gone up, taking the steps two at a time, and Rachel could hear the door open and close again. _And now I'm alone with Santana_, she thought. Great.

They sat there in awkward silence for a minute, neither making eye contact with one another. The basement was dark where they had cut out the lights to watch the movie, and Rachel would have been fine leaving it that way. The dark was comforting and quiet. Santana seemed to disagree, though, as she cut on the lamp beside her chair.

After she had looked at everything in the room twice, Rachel's gaze eventually landed on Santana. The Latina was studying her, eyes scrunched and a thoughtful look on her face. It was the same look that she wore when helping Brittany come up with choreography for Glee. It was Santana's 'trying to figure something out' look. Eventually, she shook her head, and Rachel thought maybe she had given up trying to figure whatever it was out. Unfortunately, she was wrong. Why bother to try and figure something out when she could just ask.

"So… suicide? What's that like?"


	13. Chapter 13: Fifteen Minutes Alone

**Author's Note: Thanks so much for the previous reviews. Keep them coming if you like what I'm doing, or even if you don't (and you know who you are). I respond to the ones I'm able to and keep a file of the anonymous ones to look over. It really inspires me to write and helps me work out things. I feel like I'm a driver, and I know my destination, and my headlights are showing only what's directly in front of me, but I have no idea what else will be along the way. Responding to your reviews and reading your comments helps me figure all that out. **

**Also, and I can never say this enough, thank you for reading.**

* * *

"So, suicide…? What's that like?" Santana asked, staring at the brunette in what should rightfully have been her spot on the couch next to Brittany. Never mind that Britts was dating rollerball. They always cuddled when watching movies; today shouldn't have been any different. But no, Tubbers had to invite Thumbelina over and ruin her favorite Christmas tradition for a second year in a row. What the fuck, people? Really?

"It hurts a lot, actually," Rachel said, looking down at her mending wrists, or so Santana guessed. Her papi had told her that much. Lima wasn't the biggest town in the world, and news of a teen trying to slit her wrists had made the rounds pretty fast, especially at the hospital.

"Yeah, I figured, but, I mean… why?" Santana asked.

"Because you're cutting into your arm, through-"

"No, I get that, dwarf. I'm not stupid. I mean…" Santana paused, thinking, changing tactics. "Quinn and Brittany, we've known them since the start of freshman year, but me and you? I've known you since second grade. And you still dress like a second grader, present outfit excluded. Nice sweatshirt by the way."

"Thanks."

"No prob. So, knowing each other that long, I'm kind of surprised," Santana said. "Crying, singing, annoying everyone. Trying to make some kind of ridiculous comeback or something. Yeah, everyone expects that. But going all psycho and trying to end it? Gotta admit. Never saw that one coming."

"Really?" Rachel asked, and the more she talked, the louder she got. She stood and tossed the pillow she'd been hugging back onto the couch. "You never thought it would happen to anyone you bullied? You just thought you could pick on me for all those years and nothing would ever happen?"

Santana stood, too, now getting just as angry as the brunette in front of her, because, okay, it might have been _slightly_ her fault that mini-Barbra went all nuts and tried to kill herself, but that didn't give her the right to call her out on it. "Wait, you're blaming me for this? Seriously?"

"Yes!" Rachel nearly screamed at her, an outburst that took them both by surprise. Realizing that she was so loud, Rachel looked up towards the staircase, then back at Santana. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she spoke again, it was in a quieter tone. "Partially, at least. You and everyone else that bullied me for years."

"Including Quinn," Santana said, nodding towards the stairs. "And yet you two seem _especially_ friendly this morning."

Santana noted with a little giddiness the shock that registered on her face. "I'm not- We're- I mean, that's not even-"

_Wow, is Rachel Berry speechless? I've honestly never seen that_, Santana thought._ Hell, I didn't even think it was possible_. "What, Berry?" she asked with a smirk. "No paragraph of speech about how you're not into girls and how making assumptions is wrong?"

"Making assumptions is wrong," Rachel said quietly.

"I guess," Santana said, waving her hand as if to brush away the comment. "But I'm not actually making assumptions here, am I?" Rachel didn't say anything, choosing instead to stare down at her feet, so Santana continued. "It's just like back in second grade."

This time Rachel looked up. "What?"

"Come on, Berry," Santana said. "I may not like you, but that doesn't mean I don't pay attention. You don't just give a girl all your Red Hots and a friendship bracelet and ask her to be BFFs out of nowhere."

Rachel stared at Santana, long enough to make her uncomfortable and start making jokes in her head about trying to steal her soul, and she was just about to say something when Rachel asked, almost too soft for Santana to catch, "You remember that?"

And it was the sad little weak way that she asked that reminded Santana of Brittany that time back in ninth grade when she had her tonsils taken out. She'd had to stay out of school for a week, and when Santana had gone to visit her that first afternoon, she'd been drugged out of her mind and asking for ice cream. It was all Santana could do not to go into full Candy Striper/Naughty Nurse mode and start taking care of her right then. But A) Brittany had a mom to do all that for her and B) she couldn't have anyway, because she couldn't even admit to herself how much she cared about Brittany back then. Now, though…? So, damn it. Why did fucking Berry have to sound so much like that?

"Of course I remember it," Santana said, using the soft caring voice she considered her 'Brittany voice'. Damn it. "It was the first time…" Santana stopped, looking back at the stairs. If anyone else was around, or God, even if the lights were on all the way, she wouldn't have said it. Voice going back to hard for a moment, she said, "I swear, if you ever tell anyone else this, I will cut you. And I don't mean that as a vague threat. I mean the scars you got from those little paper cuts," she nodded towards Rachel's wrists, "will be the least of your problems." Rachel gave an audible gulp of fear that made Santana sure the girl understood her. Going back to 'Britt-voice', Santana said, "It was the first time that… that another girl ever liked me."

"Another… girl?"

"Yes, midget," Santana said, closing her eyes and shaking her head, because, really? This was, like, her biggest fucking secret ever, and she was sharing it with Rachel fucking Berry of all people. What the actual fuck? "Another girl. As in, not a boy."

"Does that mean…" Rachel started to ask, staring at Santana. "You mean… are you-"

"If you finish that statement, I will ends you," Santana said, pushing Rachel in the chest until she plopped back down onto the couch. Santana stood over her, looking down at the tiny diva. "Literally. Now, see, the reason I'm telling you this is…" Santana sighed, because saying this was _almost literally_ killing her. "…it's so I can say that I'm… ugh! I'msorryokay?"

"What?" Rachel asked, staring up at her. "I didn't-"

"I'm sorry, okay!" Santana shouted at her this time causing Rachel to flinch back into the couch. "Madre de dios, you make this so fucking difficult, Berry. I've been giving it a lot of thought since my dad told me you went nuts and tried to off yourself, and while I still think it's kind of a pussy way out, I am actually sorry if I caused you to do it. Y'know, all the slushies and names and stuff."

"And for sleeping with Finn?" Rachel asked.

Santana scoffed. "No. I mean, yeah, sure, I'm sorry I slept with Finnept, but not because of you. I'm sorry for that one for me. Besides, I'm pretty sure that same weekend you were planning on breeding with St. Jackass, so the way I see it, you can't actually get mad over that one."

"What about not telling me?" Rachel asked. "You could apologize for that."

"Okay, now you're just reaching, gnome," Santana said, going back to her chair and flopping again across the armrests rather than sitting in it. "We're not friends, and I don't owe you anything. Not even the truth. Besides, everyone else in the Glee Club knew about it, all your so-called friends, and they-"

"They're _not_ my friends," Rachel said, teeth clenched.

"Not even Lady Face?" Santana asked, turning her head to look at Rachel. "I thought you and him were all BFF at Sectionals. What happened there?"

"He was never my friend," Rachel said, picking up the pillow and wrapping her arms around it again. "I tried to be nice to Kurt, but he never really cared about me. He just used me for my musical knowledge, just like Glee Club uses me for my voice. No one really cares about me. They all just want something from me, and then when they have it, everyone just tosses me to the side. All throughout school, everyone has just-"

"Oh my God," Santana said, throwing her hands up in the air. "Just stop talking. Jesus!" Santana turned in her seat until she was sitting upright and facing Rachel. "Look, life sucks. I get it. People generally suck, too. They use you and don't care about you and blah, blah, blah. Yeah. That's just how life is. You want my advice?" Rachel stared at Santana with tears in her eyes, and Santana couldn't tell if it was from what she was saying or from Rachel's previous pity party moments earlier, but the brunette nodded anyway. "Fuck. Them."

"What?" Rachel asked, looking over the edge of the pillow.

"No, seriously," Santana said. "Fuck'em. They don't like you? So fucking what? Get yourself a couple of really good friends- which, clearly you've done because you've stolen mine- and don't give a fuck about what the rest say."

"I didn't steal your friends," Rachel said. "Quinn-"

"Is that really what you're taking from my advice here?" Santana asked. "Because this is, like, premium quality, Grade-A Auntie Santi advice, and you're focusing on that? Really? Look, I know you'd never actually take them back to the Shire with you. If they ever had to choose between your stubbly little self and my hotness… well, I mean, that's not even a contest."

Rachel was gaping at her like she'd just grown a third boob but not saying anything, so Santana went on. "So, yeah, fuck those losers. Don't let them determine how you feel about you. If you think you're some special little snowflake or whatever bullshit people like you use to feel good about yourself, then fucking _be_ that snowflake. I may not like you, but I don't have to, right? You don't have to have everybody like you. Or anybody for that matter. Just, y'know, like yourself."

Rachel sat there absorbing what she'd just been told while Santana reached over and pulled her bag of chips from the floor beside her chair. Opening the bag, she pulled out a couple and tossed them into her mouth, savoring the burn all the way down as she crunched them and swallowed.

After a few minutes of watching Santana eat chips and sip from her coffee, Rachel asked, "So, umm… you and Brittany."

"Is there a question in there somewhere, tiny?"

"I just…" Rachel started, clearly nervous. Good. "When she was saying that she, umm… 'ate'-"

"I think, Berry," Santana said, loudly interrupting her, "that you should leave what Britts and me do to Britts and me." She arched an eyebrow at the nosey little girl, not as well as Quinn could, but damn it, the way that whore did it was astounding. No one could do that fucking eyebrow arch like the Ice Quinn could. That, slapping, and finding _just_ the right insult to tear someone to pieces… these were the reasons she was Head Cheerio. And that insulting shit… fuck, Q was good at it. Santana's were funny and Coach Sylvester's were crazy, but they were blunt sticks compared to Quinn. Q's insults were like a katana, like a razor blade compared to them. She was like a surgeon of verbal abuse, knowing just the right insults to use against people.

"Brittany and I," Rachel said quietly.

"Brittany and you what?" Santana asked, staring her down.

"No, when you said 'Brittany and me'," Rachel said, growing even quieter under Santana's deadly stare. "It should have… been… Brittany and… I."

"See, that shit right there is why nobody likes you," Santana said. "You don't have to correct people and be little miss perfect all the time."

"I like to help people," Rachel said meekly.

"No, you like to be right," Santana shot back. "You treat everything like a competition, and you have to be the best. You can't just be. You know when people usually want your help? When they actually _ask_ for help. Not when your 'help' is thrust upon them. Just… chill the fuck out, okay?"

Again, another few minutes of silence hung between them, and Santana was getting fucking sick of it. Where was Brittany, anyway? How long did it take for her girl to pee? And Quinn? How long of a fucking phone call was that supposed to take? It was almost like… well shit. Fucking Brittany Susan Pierce. Santana loved the girl, but sometimes… Ugh! She knew. Brittany fucking knew that she was going to apologize to Rachel. That's why she'd left as soon as Quinn had. Probably to keep her out of the room as long as she could. Britts might not have been like everyone else, but the girl knew people. One look at Santana, and she must have fucking known that she was going to apologize for pushing Rachel over the crazy cliff. Damn that girl. She loved her, but… just damn.

"Can I ask you a question?" Rachel asked, looking over at Santana.

"Whatever, munchkin." Fuck, might as well. Who knew how long they'd be down here by themselves. No, fuck that. If those two blondie bitches weren't back in the next couple of minutes, Santana would go up there and drag them back down here her damn self.

"Maybe it's stupid, but…," Rachel started, biting her lip. "Well, back in second grade… why'd you give it back? The bracelet. I gave it to you… I liked you… because you didn't treat me like everyone else did. And you seemed to like it. To like me. Then, the next day you threw it back at me and started being mean to me. I never understood it."

"Do you remember Kathy Williams?" Santana asked.

"The girl that moved away when we were in eighth grade? Yes…"

"Yeah," Santana said. "She said you were a freak because you had two dads." Rachel had this pained pitiful look in her eyes, and it hurt Santana to look at it so she looked away, over at the movie that was still paused on the television. "She said that if I was your best friend, then I'd be a freak, too, and all the other girls would hate me. She was the most popular girl in school. I saw how they treated you already, and I didn't want that, so I just… kinda fell in line, I guess."

They were quiet for another long moment, before Santana finally said, "I'm sorry, Rachel." And in that moment, it wasn't Cheerio Santana Lopez apologizing to Glee Club diva loser Rachel Berry. In that one quiet apology, she was just one eight year old girl saying 'I'm sorry' to the girl that she liked.

When Rachel didn't say anything, Santana turned back to find her staring at her, tears starting to pool in her eyes. "You called me Rachel."

"Yeah, well," Santana said, scratching at the back of her neck. "Don't get used to it, Berry."

Rachel stood from where she was and moved over to Santana's chair. "I'm going to hug you now."

Santana held up a hand, blocking her open arms. Had the girl not learned anything? Jesus. "No, you're really not," she said, trying her best to ignore the hurt look on Rachel's face. "Just… go sit down… and…" Damn that fucking puppy-with-a-broken-leg look! "Fine!" Santana yelled, raising up and wrapping her arms around the girl, hugging her like eight year old Santana had always wished she could.

After a minute, Santana finally broke away- well, okay, pushed her away- and sat back down, Rachel smiling down at her with this shy little girlie smile. "God, just stop looking at me like that," Rachel wouldn't, though, so Santana did the only rational thing she could think of to punish- umm, _distract_ her. "Here, just, have some of my potato chips, okay?"

* * *

Quinn had walked upstairs to take the phone call from Leroy and Hiram. She knew they'd be calling eventually, but she thought they could surely get through at least one movie before they'd start freaking out. Little did she realize.

"No, no, she's fine," Quinn assured Hiram. "You can talk to her if you want to, but I wouldn't if I were you."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because you want Rachel to think that you trust her," Quinn said simply. She waved at Santana's mom as she passed, walking back through the house to the entry hallway for some privacy. "Same reason I didn't tell her who was calling when I answered the phone. The same reason I'm planning on lying to her and telling her it was my mom that called if she asks." Quinn didn't want to lie to Rachel, not after they'd basically promised not to lie to each other, but this was for her own good, right? Surely God would be cool with that little white lie. It wasn't like a huge lie this time. Not like last year with the paternity of the baby and all.

"We do trust her," Hiram said. "That's not why we're calling. It's just that-"

"That you don't trust me," Quinn finished for him. "And I get it. I'm a horrible person and a bully. I know. We all know."

"Quinn…" Hiram said, that weird mix of guilty and losing patience that parents get when they're in the wrong but don't want to hear it. "Rachel being bullied is all our faults. Everyone's. Yours for doing it, Rachel's for not telling us about it, and mine and Leroy's for not getting her to open up when she came home crying. There's no one innocent in this situation. And, from what I can tell, we're all trying to make it better. You included. So just stop, okay?"

Quinn sighed, then blew a puff of air up, hitting the hair hanging there. "You're right. I'm sorry. I forget you're not Leroy. You don't hate me as much as he does."

"He doesn't hate you, Quinn, and neither do I," he said. "We're both just concerned for our daughter's well-being most of all. And _we both_ believe that people can change. You don't seem to be the same girl that my daughter's letters complained about. All we can do now is give you a fresh start like Rachel has and go from there."

"You mean that?" Quinn asked, taken aback. "You'd really just forget about all the stuff I've done?"

"No, not forget," Hiram said. "But if Rachel is willing to forgive you, then we can try as well."

"Even Leroy?"

"I'll… talk to him," he said cautiously. "But yes, even Leroy believes deep down that people can change, too. He just… it's been a rough week for us, you understand. And reading those letters on the day before she was supposed to come home. Knowing in just a couple of weeks that she'd be going back to school and facing that again, and knowing that, God forbid there be a next time, that you might not be there. It's just been… stressful."

"I understand," Quinn said. "Well, I mean, not completely, but I get it. I've had a lot of those worries, too. Trying to figure out how I can be there for Rachel at school and keep her from being bullied. It's… weird, you know. Going from being the one bullying people- bullying Rachel- to trying to keep her safe from bullies."

"I don't," Hiram said. "Leroy would. He used to be a bully when he was in school. I was more Rachel. I was generally the one getting bullied."

They were quiet for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts, when Quinn finally, quietly asked, "Hiram… Did you ever think about… about doing what Rachel did?"

Hiram sighed. It seemed there had been a lot of that going around. "I wish I could say that I never did, but… there were times. I had my share of bullies."

"My father," Quinn said bitterly, remembering the conversation back at the hospital that first night.

"Among others," Hiram said. "As hard as it is now for gay kids in your school, as much as your friend Kurt was bullied before he transferred, it was even worse back then if you can imagine. Homosexuality was looked at as a mental disorder for the longest time. It was easy for people to call us fags and retards in the same breath. And there were no role models like there are now. Even celebrities that everyone assumed were gay… no one ever talked about it." Hiram took a deep breath, calming his nerves or getting rid of the memories, Quinn couldn't tell which. "So, yes, your father was one of them, but he was nowhere near the only one."

"I'm sorry," Quinn said. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, it's okay," Hiram said. "It was hard for a long time, but it got better. I have… well, had… a wonderful husband that I love. We were given a beautiful baby girl that has been a joy and a blessing every single day. Lee's family has opened back up to him over the years and welcomed me in as a son. There were hard times, but the good has always outweighed the bad. Things aren't great right now, but I have faith that they'll get better again."

"And if they don't?" Quinn asked, unable not to.

"You have to have faith, Quinn," Hiram said. "That's all you can do."

After a few more minutes of conversation in which Hiram reminded Quinn of Rachel's medication times, and Quinn assured him that everything was taken care of and that Rachel was having a good time, which, okay, may or may not have been a lie. Quinn couldn't really tell. She'd been so quiet since they'd gotten there, but they were watching movies, so there wasn't really that much talking. Not like usual, anyway.

Usually whenever they watched movies, it was always loud and obnoxious. Okay, really, that was mostly Santana, but she and Brittany got into it, too. They would ramble on through a movie, talking about the characters, their motives, their clothes. They'd wonder if the leads were really sleeping together on set or if those were just rumors. During one particular crying fit last year in which Quinn was hormonal and upset that maybe the Grinch never would find true love and experience what Christmas was all about, Santana had pulled out her laptop and shoved it Quinn's face. It was on the web page for IMDB, and she was suddenly looking at Taylor Momsen, and, holy crap, Cindy Lou Who was a trashy slut now. That had got them all laughing, and they could barely watch the rest of the movie without making jokes about Cindy and the Grinch hooking up now that she was almost eighteen.

This year, it was so much more subdued, though. Rachel was part of it, true, but it wasn't just her. Santana and Brittany weren't the same this year. Now that Brittany was dating Artie and Santana was just angry at everything because of that, it was stressful. It was kind of a turnaround from last year, honestly. Quinn was probably the most normal one in the room. What a sad thought.

Ending the call with Hiram, Quinn passed through the kitchen again, going towards the basement, only to be stopped by Brittany sitting on the floor in front of the door. "Umm… Hey, Brittany. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," Brittany said, smiling and patting the floor beside her. "Sit, please. I wanted to talk about Rachel's present."

"Okay…" Quinn said, still feeling a little unsure. Brittany was acting weird… well, weirder. Weird for her. "What about it?"

"I found the perfect place to get one," Brittany said. "At the mall. I went there last week, and they have a cat that had a kaboodle a few weeks ago, and the guy said they would be old enough to get one soon, and I was thinking you could get one of those. And I was hoping we could go there today. I still need to a get a present for Artie, and you said on the phone last night that you still haven't gotten anything for Sam." One look at Quinn's face had Brittany backtracking, though. "If you're still getting something for Sam. You don't have to. I just thought, you know, if you wanted."

"I haven't really thought about it," Quinn said, running hands through her hair and shaking it out. "I know I probably should, and it's only two days until Christmas, so now is definitely the time, but…"

"But you're not sure if you still want to date him," Brittany said. It was always creepy how she did that. She thought a ballad was a male duck or that the square root of 4 was rainbows, but when it came to people, it's like she was psychic. How could someone be so dumb but so smart at the same time? "I understand," she continued, dropping her voice down so no one else could hear. "I feel kind of the same way. I care about Artie so much. He's nice and sweet and smart, and when I look at him I think that maybe I could love him. But Santana… She's mean to everyone, and she hates everything, and she always has some nasty thing to say, but… I love her. I look at her, and I see flying cars and robot maids."

_The future_, Quinn thought with a smile as she lay her head on Brittany's shoulder, though it quickly faded. She didn't see any future with Sam. She wasn't even sure if she could see them making it to prom. Not everything had to be about the future, though, right? Just because Brittany could see herself and Santana together someday didn't mean they would be. And Quinn not being able to see a future with Sam didn't mean there wasn't one. Maybe she should just take it one day at a time. Hadn't their fight been over something stupid and petty, anyway? The truth? She could do the truth with Sam, right? Okay, no, probably not, but she could lie to him enough to keep him satisfied. She was a Fabray. That's what they did.

"I _should_ get something for Sam," Quinn said. "I just have no idea what to get him. And it's only two more days, so I need to go ahead and get Rachel's present, too. I just don't know if she'll like it or appreciate it. I mean, what if one of her dads are allergic?"

"They're not," Brittany said, letting her head fall back against the door. She looked like she was counting, but after two and a half years, the odd things Brittany did rarely ever surprised Quinn anymore.

"How do you know, Britts?" Quinn asked, pulling away a little to look at her.

"I listen to Rachel," Brittany said, wrapping an arm around Quinn's waist. "She said one time that her dads or other family had given her kittens in the past, but that she gave them away because they weren't perfect. Which I don't get. I mean, how can a pet be perfect or not perfect? They just are. It's like with people. People can't be perfect or unperfect. They're just people."

Ignoring the rest of what Brittany had said, two emotions hit Quinn. The first was hurt. She listened to Rachel, too, didn't she? She listened to everyone that talked, even if she didn't care what they were saying. Rachel was no different. The other emotion was worried. She decided to go with that one. "Brittany, are you sure? I don't want to upset her or have her give away it away. I really think it'll help her, but I don't want her to just get rid of it."

"Don't worry, Q," Brittany said. "That was old Rachel. New Rachel wouldn't do that." And again, it seemed Brittany was someone voicing Quinn's own concerns. "And I know you listen to new Rachel, but you didn't listen to old Rachel. Not really. You just heard the stuff you could make her sad with."

"That's…" She wanted to deny it, but Brittany was nearly always right about stuff like this. Quinn stopped and really thought about it. It was true. She hurt people and she was good at it. She'd hurt Rachel most of all. All of that she knew. Thinking about what she actually knew about Rachel, though, Quinn realized it wasn't fun facts about her or simple knowledge as one person to another. It was ammunition. "Brittany," Quinn asked after a silent minute. "Am I a bad person?"

"Q, no," Brittany said, pulling her into a serious Brittany hug. "You're not a bad person. I think you're a sad person most of the time, but not bad." Quinn wanted to pull back, wanted to ask why she thought she was sad, but Brittany wouldn't let her go. Instead, she squeezed her even tighter, pulling her in even closer. "Your mom and dad made you sad for a long time, Quinn. Before they ever kicked you out. And I'm super glad that your mom makes you smiley now, but your dad still makes you frowny without even being here. And being sad makes you mad and you take it out on people. It's like when San made me watch Star Wars with her, and Yoda said 'fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering'. Except with you, it's sad that leads to anger."

"I'm afraid sometimes, too," Quinn said, letting the words slip out before she could stop them. On some other level, she was pocketing the part about Santana making Brittany watch Star Wars with her. That girl was such a closet nerd.

"I know," Brittany said, rubbing her back. "You and San have that in common."

"S gets scared, too, B?" Quinn asked. "About what."

"The same thing you get scared about sometimes," Brittany said. "If you both were just honest, you'd be happier."

Quinn didn't say anything. What could she say? She knew that Santana loved Brittany as much as Brittany loved her. Because of school, though, Santana would never come out. They'd all seen how Kurt was bullied to the point that he had to transfer. There was a death threat, and even reporting that didn't stop the bullying. Sure, the Unholy Trinity was on top at William McKinley, but how long could they possibly stay that way if people found out that they were gay. Or… that… Santana and Brittany were gay, anyway. Not Quinn. Never Quinn. There would always be people like Missy Gunderson or Meghan Abbott or any of the other backstabbing Cheerios that would be more than willing to take their place to be popular.

Then something else occurred to Quinn. Brittany knew. "Brits," Quinn said, quietly. "You wouldn't tell anybody what you know, would you?" She had to know, to make sure. "Not even Santana?"

"Of course not, Quinn," Brittany said, finally releasing her. "You haven't even told me, so I couldn't tell anybody else."

"Thank you," Quinn said, genuinely relieved. Or as relieved as she could be. She wasn't sure if she could trust Brittany since the girl had a penchant for spilling information she shouldn't, but no one knew about Santana. She had to assume she was as safe as her.

Quinn rose up off the floor, brushing any dirt and dust off of her jeans. She then reached out a hand to Brittany to help her up, but the taller blonde turned her head, refusing to meet her eyes. "Brittany…?"

Brittany turned back to her, looking guilty. "Hi?"

"Britts, why aren't you getting up so we can go back downstairs?" Quinn asked. Then realization then hit her. "Britt, you left Rachel and Santana alone down there? Are you crazy?"

"No," Brittany said. "My mother had me tested." She smiled up at Quinn.

"Really not the time for Big Bang Theory references, B," Quinn said, standing there with her arms crossed and glaring down at Brittany.

Brittany sighed. "I know." She held out her hands to Quinn who took them and pulled her up off of the floor. "I just thought it'd put you in a better mood."

"Getting down there and making sure Santana hasn't killed Rachel will put me in a better mood," Quinn said, moving to go around Brittany who just stood there, blocking the door. "Britts, I need you to move, sweetie."

"I can't," Brittany said. "San gets two minutes and thirty seven more seconds."

"What?" Quinn was generally confused, and it wasn't the usual confusion of Brittany speaking. "Two minutes and thirty seven more seconds for what?"

Brittany took a deep breath. "Okay, so you know how some people can see a bunch of numbers and letters and squiggly lines on a whiteboard and know that it means math?" she asked, though it wasn't a usual Brittany question. This was the same way she acted when she was explaining choreography, or what she and San referred to as 'Serious Business Brittany'. Quinn nodded, impatient, but clearly this was important to her. "But there are other people- maybe more people- that look at the numbers and letters and squiggly lines and see a jumble and just want to go and erase it off the board so that it's clean again and you can use it. But then the math people are all like 'no, we're using that'." Again, Quinn nodded, but she had no idea where this was going. "Well, people are like that to me."

Quinn stared at her. "So… you're like… a whiteboard?"

"No," Brittany said. "I mean, yes, but only because everyone's a whiteboard. And I'm like the math guy that looks at the whiteboard and sees the jumble and knows that it's math. Except it's not math, it's, like, emotions."

"So you're saying you can read people," Quinn said, finally getting it. "You're a people person. That's great. Now please move."

She didn't, though. Instead, Brittany said, "Yeah, but it's more than that, I think. Like, when I looked at Santana today, she kept looking at Rachel all sad, and her face and her body said 'apology'. So I knew she was going to apologize. But it also said 'shy', so I knew that she wouldn't do it around us, so when you got your phone call and your body said 'Rachel' and 'protect' and 'parents', I knew that they'd have time if I went ahead and left, too."

Quinn was staring at her, but Brittany was smiling and looked rather pleased with herself. Really, that wasn't even fair. Hating Britany was like hating a puppy. And if Santana was apologizing -which Quinn doubted, though really, Brittany was never wrong about this stuff- then it was good for everyone.

"Time's up," Brittany said, finally moving so Quinn could get to the door. "I gave them fifteen minutes."

Quinn stepped past her and opened the door, going back down to the basement. The first thing she noticed was Rachel sitting there on the couch where she had left her. The lamp beside Santana's chair was on, and she was sitting there laughing at Rachel. As Quinn approached she noticed Rachel had tears streaming down her face, and was asking, "God, why would you do that to me?"

"Because it's funny, short stack," Santana said, popping some more chips in her mouth. Santana glanced up at Quinn coming at her, the anger set into her face, and quickly burst out of her seat, automatically backing up. "Whoa, capitán, it's not what you think."

"You're saying I'm not seeing Rachel here crying her eyes out because she's spent time with you?" Quinn yelled at her, getting inside her personal space. "What the fuck, S? You can't _not_ make the suicidal girl cry for fifteen minutes? Do you hate her that much? Seriously?"

"Fuck off, Q," Santana said, getting over the sudden shock of having Quinn rush her and get in her face. "We weren't doing anything. I gave her-"

"Fuck you, you weren't doing anything," Quinn said. "She didn't just start crying for no reason."

"No, Quinn. It's okay, really," Rachel said, standing from the couch and wedging herself between the two Cheerios who both stepped back to allow her space. Rachel turned to Quinn. "She really wasn't doing anything. She gave me some of her chips. They were much spicier than I expected and my eyes were watering quite a bit, actually. I'm sure it looked like I was crying, and probably still does, and… okay, my mouth is still kind of on fire. How do you even eat these things, Santana?"

"Years of practice, pequita," Santana said, smiling. Facing Quinn, the smile dropped from her face. "See, puta. Nothing going on here."

Quinn didn't bother to look at Santana but only studied Rachel. In a much softer voice, she asked, "But you have been crying, Rachel. After the past few days I can tell. Are you okay?"

"I'm…" Rachel started, looking from Quinn to Santana to Quinn to Brittany. "Brittany?" Rachel walked past Quinn to Brittany who was standing there with an almost blank look on her face. "Brittany, are you… are you okay?" She reached out and took the taller cheerleaders hands and held them, and Brittany seemed to come out of some trance.

"Oh, hey, Rachel," Brittany said, halfway to a smile, though her eyes were sad. "I don't like them fighting. It was just like the beginning of the year all over again. It makes my heart sad."

"It's okay, Brittany," Rachel said, letting go of her hands and moving beside her. She pulled her into a side hug and glared at the other two girls in the room. "They weren't really mad at each other. It was just a simple misunderstanding. Quinn was just being protective of me, and Santana was being defensive, but it's okay now, because nothing's wrong. They're going to apologize to each other like civil human beings, and we're going to go back to watching our movie, okay?"

"I like this movie," Brittany said, looking over at the television screen.

"Me too," Rachel said with a smile. Quinn could tell it was her show smile, not the real, smaller, almost shy smile she uses when she's genuinely happy. No, this one was just for Brittany's sake, and Quinn realized it was probably killing her to be the center of attention right now. Again, Quinn reflected on how odd it was that Rachel Barbra Berry didn't want to be the center of attention.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said, stepping forward and looking at Brittany. "I didn't mean to upset you, Britts. I was just worried about Rachel." Turning to Santana, she wanted to grit her teeth because her best friend pissed her off so much sometimes. She didn't, though. She was a Fabray. "I'm sorry, Santana."

"Yeah, whatever," Santana said, moving back to her chair. She fell back into it, swinging her legs up and over the armrest. "Do it like you mean it or don't say it at all."

Quinn sighed, one hand moving up to her right eyebrow and rubbing across it. "Fine. You're right. I didn't trust you with Rachel. When I came down here and saw what looked like her crying, I immediately blamed you. I'm really sorry that I didn't find out what was going on before I got angry at you. Happy?"

"Whatevs," Santana said, not bothering to look up at Quinn.

"San…" Brittany whined.

Santana looked over where Brittany was still being held by Rachel, locked eyes with her for a moment, sighed, and said, "Fine. I accept your apology. I'm also sorry that I called you a puta, even though you are, and that I said that you can fuck off, which you totally can. Now can we _please_ get back to the movie? You people and all your drama are killing my Christmas movie buzz."

Brittany smiled and let go of Rachel, walking over to where Santana was draped across the chair. She clicked off the knob of the lamp, throwing the room into the semi-darkness it had been in before Quinn's phone call. Moving in front of Santana's chair, she sat down on her lap and somehow managed to snuggle into Santana and wrap her limbs around her like a squid. Once the tall blonde was settled, Santana looked as much at peace as she ever was and kissed the top of her head, smiling. Her friends…

Rachel watched all this with a look of envy, because, really, Brittany was an excellent hugger. She then went back to the couch she had been sitting on and picked up a pillow that had fallen on the floor. She hugged the pillow, laying down and putting her head on the armrest nearest Quinn's chair.

Quinn fought the ridiculous urge to go and lay down with Rachel the way Brittany had lain down with Santana. She just couldn't. It wouldn't be right or proper or some other word that kept her from being happy. With an internal sigh, because even a normal melancholic sigh was too much of a giveaway, she went back to her own chair, picked up the remote and hit play. She looked down at Rachel, watching the movie, then over to Brittany and Santana. The Latina's eyes were on the screen, but Brittany's were on her. Quinn gave her a forced smile that she returned and looked ahead, forcing herself to watch the movie. It probably didn't help that they were on the card scene where the guy that couldn't have the girl was making his peace with the fact and yet still telling her how he felt. Quinn knew she'd never be that brave.


	14. Chapter 14: Unholy Square?

**Author's Note: I have a longer "Author's Note" at the end as I didn't want to dump a lot on you at the beginning. TL,DR: the main point is thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites. Enjoy the chapter. :-)**

* * *

They finished Love, Actually and moved on to How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The movie, not the cartoon. Quinn had liked them both as a little girl, but neither as much as the book. It was one of the first books she'd ever learned to read. She'd always enjoyed reading, and still had a nice selection of Dr. Seuss in one of the many bookcases in her room. She hoped she could pass them on to her children one day, if she were ever lucky enough to have them.

After the Grinch, through which no one shed a single tear this year though there were a few laughs again about Cindy Lou Who, they went upstairs for lunch where Santana's mom had made tamales. This was mostly because they were Brittany's favorite and everyone in the Lopez clan had claimed her as family. Now that Brittany was dating Artie and spending much less time around Santana, they were even happier to see her when they could. Santana's mom seemed to know something was going on between Brittany and Santana or, more appropriately, _not_ going on between them anymore. If she had her suspicions, though, she never said.

After lunch, Quinn followed Ms. Lopez back to the kitchen and offered to help with the dishes, but she was shooed away as always. It had become a routine for them that they both appreciated. Quinn always playing the good Fabray daughter and offering to help, Ms. Lopez always being the good host and refusing. Thanking her again for lunch, Quinn turned around only to find that Rachel had followed her.

"I just wanted to say thank you for lunch, Ms. Lopez," Rachel said, smiling her show smile again as she had downstairs for Brittany. In her own way, Rachel was lying, but at least she wasn't using that gray monotone voice. Quinn wasn't sure if she considered this improvement or not. "Everything was very delicious."

_It's charming, if you've never spent much time around her_, Quinn thought, looking at her fake smile and forced happiness. To Quinn, though, it just seemed sad.

"Thank you," Ms. Lopez said, cocking her head to the side. "I'm sorry, are you one of Santana's Cheerio friends, also? You look very familiar."

"No, ma'am," Rachel said. "I'm in Glee Club with her and Brittany and Quinn here."

"Oh," Ms. Lopez said, suddenly smiling. "That's where I know you from. You're the little girl with the big voice. You and the tall boy sang at Regionals last year. What was your name again? I'm afraid Santana doesn't talk about your Glee Club as much as she does the Cheerios."

"Rachel Berry," Rachel said, sticking out her hand for Ms. Lopez to shake. The smile dropped off of the older woman's face momentarily and a look passed her eyes, but she quickly fixed it and shook Rachel's hand.

"Yes," Ms. Lopez said, looking down at Rachel's wrist were the brace was. "I'm sorry to hear about your… accident. My husband works at the hospital."

"Oh," Rachel said, the fake show smile not even surviving as the color drained out of her face. "My… accident. Yes. It was rather… unfortunate." Before Santana's mom could respond, Rachel turned to Quinn, then back to Ms. Lopez. "If you'll excuse me, I really must be getting back downstairs to see how Santana and Brittany are doing. I'd hate to be a bad guest and all. It was lovely meeting you."

Ms. Lopez started to say "You too, dear," but Rachel was already out of the kitchen before she could even finish saying it.

"I'm so sorry," Quinn said, smiling apologetically. They both shared the same sad expression as they stared at the doorway Rachel had passed through. That was rather embarrassing, Rachel being so rude, though somewhat understandable. What do you say to well-wishers after a suicide attempt? "She's not usually like that. It's been a rough week."

"I understand," Ms. Lopez said, nodding. "My husband, you know, he's a doctor. He was there the night she came in, and words travel fast around the hospital. Too fast, sometimes. It is a difficult time for her. And now I fear I have said the wrong thing. It's a hard thing to know what to say. Ay, I suppose it would have been better to say nothing at all."

Quinn only shrugged, unsure what to say to her. Ms. Lopez just smiled sadly again, patted her on the shoulder, and went back over to the sink to start the dishes. Quinn knowing when she was dismissed, headed back towards the door to the basement. Heading downstairs, she found Rachel on the couch, laying down and clutching her pillow again while Brittany sat cross-legged on the coffee table flipping through a binder full of DVDs.

"We should make a list of all the Christmas stuff we have," Santana said from her chair. She was now sitting completely upside down in it, legs sprawled over the back of the chair and head hanging off the seat. Her hair was in a ponytail now, down from its bun, and she was lazily brushing the tip of her hair back and forth across the floor for her own personal amusement. Quinn felt sure it was something about this room. Out in the real world, she was big bad Santana Lopez, but here in this room where she spent so much time, first with her brother and sister, then with Quinn and Brittany, she was just a normal goofy teenager. "That way we'll know next year and won't have to search through everything." Pausing a moment, Santana seemed to consider the situation. "Berry, make a note of that. It's your job to organize our DVD collection for next year."

Quinn paused on her way back into the room, completely shocked and looking back and forth between the girls. Brittany was doing the same, looking from Santana to Rachel. It took a minute for the words to hit her, but Rachel finally moved her pillow so she could look over at Santana. "I-What?"

"You're the one that loves all that PowerPoint shit, right?" Santana asked, not bothering to even open her eyes as she continued moving her head side to side and brushing her ponytail across the floor. "So I figured you're probably the most organized one of us. I know the way we're doing it now, just looking through random cabinets and binders, is probably making you even crazier, right? So I'm putting you in charge of making a list for all of us to use next year. Use those anal retentive, O.C.D. superpowers for good." Silence hung in the air, and Santana finally opened her eyes, looking at the rest of them upside down. "What?"

"You want Rachel here next year?" Brittany asked. It was the question hanging on everyone's lips.

"God, no," Santana said, looking around the room. "But it doesn't matter what I want, does it?" When no one said anything, Santana barked out an incredulous laugh. "Come on, we all knew how this was going to play out today." She looked over to Rachel, and added, "Well, no, you probably didn't, Berry, but Britts did. And Q would have, too, if she were thinking straight."

Quinn's eyes flashed dangerously at Santana, the possible implication hanging in the air, but the upside down girl missed it as her gaze lay firmly on Brittany. "Tell me if I miss anything here, B. At some point today, you were going to ask something like, 'since Q's friends with the hobbit now, does that mean we can be, too?' because you've been wanting to be friends with her since, like, what? The first day of freshman year? And of course I would have said no while Q said yes. Then, later, you would have asked something like, 'does this mean she can be part of our group?' Again, I would have said no, while Quinn just stood there looking stupid. Then you would done that little quivery, pouty lip thing that I can't say no to and said 'please', and I would have killed pretty much anyone just to get you not to cry, so _of course_ I would have finally said yes. That sound about right?"

"Yep," Brittany said, smiling brightly. "Your big brain is so sexy, San."

"Whatever," Santana said, though she smiled as she closed her eyes again and went back to sweeping her ponytail across the floor.

Quinn looked over at Rachel who looked dumbstruck, then back to Brittany. "You were really going to do all that, Britts?"

"Oh, totally," she said, starting again to flip through the binder of DVDs. "It's like San's psychic Mexican third eye totally told her everything I was going to do." Brittany suddenly stopped what she was doing and looked over at Santana. "Oh! Can it guess what number I'm thinking of, too?"

"Thirty-seven," Santana said, not missing a beat.

"In a row?" Brittany asked, and they both laughed.

"It's not psychic if you keep picking the same number, B," Santana said, smiling at the girl sitting on top of the coffee table. Why did her friends have so much trouble using furniture correctly?

Quinn walked over to where Rachel was now sitting up on the couch with mouth agape, still clutching the pillow tightly in front of her. Quinn patted Rachel on the shoulder, tossing her a comforting smile as she walked by, and took the chair she'd been sitting in earlier, bringing her legs up and under her. "So, you two want Rachel to be one of us. What, like the Unholy Trinity plus one? The Unholy Square? It's going to be difficult with her not being a Cheerio. And, not that I mind, but why exactly should Rachel start hanging out with us all the time?" Rachel looked worried and hurt and nervous, somehow all at the same time, and Quinn took a beat to marvel at the way emotions danced on her face. Hers was a face meant for acting. "I really don't mind," Quinn said softly, hurriedly to placate Rachel. "I'm really enjoying hanging out with you. But there has to be a reason Brittany wants you to join us rather than us just being friends with you." Quinn turned to Brittany. "There is, isn't there?"

Santana answered before Brittany could. "Oh, mi patita is clever," Santana said, smiling sweetly at Brittany who returned it, before changing to her devious smirk for Rachel and Quinn. "Because she knew that the only real way to get people to leave Berry alone at school is to get her to join us. No one messes with the Unholy Trinity, and if she's with us, no one messes with her either. We're reputational Kevlar."

"Uh-huh," Quinn said, only slightly angry which she thought was just fucking amazing, considering. "And where was this bullet-proof vest last year when I needed it? When I was pregnant and getting slushied twice a week? When I was kicked out of not one but _two_ homes?! When I needed you!" Brittany and Santana looked ashamed while Rachel was staring between the other three, suddenly concerned.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," Brittany said sadly, quietly. "We're bad friends."

"What do you want us to say?" Santana asked, flipping out of the chair onto her feet, then sitting back down in it right side up. "We were shitty friends. We left you at the mercy of the school, your parents, and that giant idiot. We suck, okay?" Santana looked over at Brittany who was ignoring eye contact with everyone, looking down at her own hands. "No, _I_ suck."

"San, no," Brittany started, looking up at the Latina.

"No, Britts," Santana said, looking from her to Quinn. "Brittany wanted to help you but I wouldn't let her. Coach Sue was a bitch, like… _seriously_ a bitch. She put the word out that anyone helping you or still being friends with you was off the squad. Brittany still wanted to take you in, especially after Finn kicked you out, but I talked her out of it. I couldn't…" She let out a growl of frustration. "I couldn't protect her if she wasn't a Cheerio with me, okay? People at that school suck, and we all know it. They're ruthless and cruel, and me and you, Q? We were the worst. People loved that you got knocked down a few pegs, but I wasn't about to let them take out anything on Britt because of me. So I made her keep away from you to protect her." Santana turned to Rachel. "The same way I kept her from going to your party. You're a loser, Berry, and I don't mean that as a knock against you personally this time. That's just your status at that school. Sorry if that sucks to hear, but that's how it is. Brittany going to your party rather than Puck's… Hell, Brittany being your friend at all… people would pick on her about it, and I can't have that." She looked over at Brittany. "I can't."

Quinn looked over at Rachel, thinking, wondering what she would do to protect the tiny brunette girl from the school. Was it any less than what Santana had done to protect Brittany from ridicule? Everyone knew Brittany was special, and, yes, she meant that in every way. Quinn had never called her stupid and she never ever would, but she knew the girl's limitations. She wrote in crayon and was really bad at math and made some head-scratchingly odd statements. The school, if given free rein to pick on her would be relentless. She couldn't fault Santana for doing what she had to do to protect her. It's nothing short of what Quinn would have done herself; sell out Santana to save Brittany.

"It's fine," Quinn said, standing from the chair. "I get it. You had to pick Brittany over me. I would have done the same thing."

"No, it's not okay, Q," Brittany said, standing and pulling her into a hug. "I'm sorry. I should have been… I don't know… braver, or something. It shouldn't have mattered what coach said. You needed us, and we weren't there for you. I even made fun of you one time when you were pregnant because I wanted the Glee girls to like me. I hated myself after I said it, but I didn't want to apologize because then I'd have to tell you what I had said and I didn't want to hurt you." She released Quinn and walked over to Rachel, kneeling down so they were eye level. "And since everyone else has apologized to you, I should, too."

"No, Brittany, you don't need to apologize," Rachel said, setting the pillow aside. "You've never done anything bad towards me."

"No, but I never stopped them from doing anything, either," Brittany said sadly. "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing. Edmund Burke said that. Except in this case, I guess it would be good women. Or woman. Whatever." Everyone stared at Brittany because, not only was the quote totally appropriate, but she was also accurate in who said it. "I should have stopped them from picking on you, from slushee-ing you. They'd have listened. They liked me more than they hated you. I just… I wanted to make sure they liked me, Rachel. I wanted to be a part of something. But I also wanted to be your friend. That's why I left you the notes."

"The no-" Rachel started, looking confused before her eyes suddenly went wide. "That was you? I never- I didn't know- and you…?" She was momentarily speechless while Quinn and Santana shared a confused look. They were clearly missing out on a lot. "And the Valentines cards?"

"That was me, too," Brittany smiled. "And Mike and Matt, but he moved, so there'll probably be one less this year." She looked sad at the thought, but perked up when Rachel started smiling. It was the biggest genuine smile that Quinn had seen the girl use since she'd been back from the hospital, and she suddenly launched herself at Brittany, nearly knocking her kneeling form over from the intensity of it.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Rachel squealed out in excitement, pulling back to look Brittany in the eyes. "You don't know how much they meant to me. When I thought no one cared- and it was you all along! I should have known, but everything was just so- AGH!" And again she was throwing herself at Brittany and squeezing her, this time with happy tears starting to fall. "I love you so much, Brittany!"

"Of course you do," Brittany said, happily swaying the both of them back and forth. "I'm awesome. And you already know how much I love you, right?"

"Yes," Rachel said, sniffing, smiling. "Yes, of course."

"I'm so glad you're still alive, Rachel," Brittany said quietly.

"Me too," Rachel said, and in that moment, Quinn could actually tell she meant it. She wasn't deluded enough to think it was permanent or that whatever had happened between the two of them had magically fixed everything, but it was a start. Rachel being happy to be alive, even if just in that moment…? For now, she'd take it.

* * *

Quinn sat in her chair again, lights dimmed as they watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Rachel had never seen it even though it had songs in it, Brittany loved anything animated, and Santana had a soft spot for holiday themed Claymation. It seemed like she owned all of them. From the newer Nightmare Before Christmas to all the old ones like The Year Without a Santa Claus, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, and even some weird thing on an old VHS tape about raisins from California. It was honestly a little odd some of the hobbies Santana secretly had. Then again, when Quinn thought about the box of sci-fi/fantasy books in the back of her closet marked 'Lucy', could she really even complain?

Quinn turned to see Rachel snuggled up again, under a blanket with Brittany. Whatever their conversation had been about, some kind of notes or letters or something, they weren't sharing. It clearly wasn't a romantic thing; it if it had been, Quinn was pretty sure Santana would have lost her mind. Quinn thought for sure she was going to snap anyway when they had said they loved each other. It was important to the two of them, whatever it was, so Santana had begrudgingly let it go. Quinn was curious, though. She knew she could find out later if she needed to. Rachel had promised to be completely honest with her after all, hadn't she?

After Rudolph, they were again trying to decide what to watch when someone mentioned the Christmas episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Being one of Quinn's favorite shows growing up, she'd quickly agreed and didn't even get any grief about it. Buffy was a bad-ass former cheerleader who killed things for a living and looking amazing doing it. How could anyone not love that?

"I've never heard of it," Rachel said. "It sounds violent, with the slaying vampires. And why would anyone want to slay vampires? Sure, for a long time they got a bad reputation for killing and drinking the blood of their victims, but in today's culture with shows like True Blood and The Vampire Diaries and the popularity of Twilight-"

"Out," Santana said, pointing to the door. "Get out." Looking over to Brittany and Quinn, she added, "I was wrong. She can't be one of us. She has to go."

"San…" Brittany whined, holding on to Rachel who looked like she couldn't tell if Santana was joking or not. Hell, Quinn couldn't really tell anymore. Santana took things like this seriously, sometimes. "She didn't know."

"Doesn't matter," Santana said. "She mentioned Twilight _and_ tried to defend vampires. She has to go."

"What?" Rachel asked, looking back and forth between Quinn and Brittany, the clearly sane ones of the room. "I didn't- I just meant that-" She stopped, looking around for support.

"San," Brittany said, looking down. "I have a confession to make…"

"No, B," Santana moaned. "Not you, too?"

"Ashley got me to read the first one," Brittany said. Ashley was Brittany's twelve year old sister and absolutely adored her. She was nearly as sweet as Brittany, but an honor roll student. It almost wasn't fair that Ashley was the beautiful smart sweet girl that Lucy had always wanted to be. Quinn had to change everything about herself to be that girl. "It was actually pretty good. And they sparkle, San. How cool is that? You know I've always wanted to sparkle."

Santana looked stuck somewhere between loving and hating Brittany at the moment, like her brain couldn't decide which fork to take. After a long agonizing minute, though, love finally won out as Santana said, "You do sparkle, Britts. Just… this isn't one of those things I can share with you, okay?"

"It's okay," Brittany said. "Rachel can be my best friend now."

Santana actually looked almost physically hurt from that, and Quinn couldn't believe that Brittany could be so cold and uncaring. "I thought _I_ was your best friend, B," Santana said morosely.

"No, you're my complicated," Brittany said. When Santana stared on waiting for some kind of explanation, Brittany added, "It's like on Facebook. If I was talking about me and you, we're not in a relationship, but we're not just friends. I would put 'It's Complicated'. You're my 'Complicated'. So Rachel can be my best friend now like you and Q are."

Santana sat looking at the girl, not knowing what to say, so Quinn jumped in. She was Santana's best friend after all. Apparently. Who knew, right? "That's actually kind of brilliant, Britts. So you and Rachel can talk about vampires and Twilight and all that, and now Santana doesn't have to have an aneurism trying to pretend to like it. It works out for everyone, then."

"Yep," Brittany said, smiling.

They were all silent for a long minute when Rachel finally piped up. "Does this mean I don't have to leave?" They all looked to where the diva was sitting, watching the three around them and probably wondering how she had stumbled into this particular rabbit hole. _It's only further and further down from here, Alice_, Quinn thought as Brittany assured her that she didn't as well as informed her that they were now BFF for life.

It was nice to see Rachel's face light up at that, knowing that someone wanted to be her friend. Quinn and Rachel had come to an uneasy truce in the hospital, and they said they'd try to be friends, but Rachel and Brittany had a completely different dynamic. Quinn could see it already. Brittany was the friend that Rachel had yearned for all her life. The girl to tell secrets to about crushes on boys and pass notes in class and have sleepovers with. Quinn was just too fucking aloof for that, too withdrawn, too hidden. Thankfully Santana was much the same and knew when to push Quinn and when to leave her alone. They got each other. And Brittany… Quinn loved Brittany like a sister, but she wasn't close to her, not like Santana was. They were just _too_ different. Brittany was often good for Quinn, given enough time to find her way past Quinn's walls, and she often drew the pensive blonde out of her shell and into the world with her and Santana. It was always a struggle, though.

So this, Rachel and Brittany's friendship, could totally be a good thing for all involved. Brittany could have a friend that she didn't have to work to have fun with like she did with Quinn. She could have someone that didn't confuse her emotionally like Santana did. Rachel could have a friendship like she'd always wanted. Santana could have a reason to never have to discuss Twilight ever again. And Quinn… actually thinking about it, Quinn felt left out of the whole equation. If Rachel had Brittany to be friends with, where did that leave her and Rachel? As her secondary friend? As her backup friend? Or was Brittany on to something earlier? Was Rachel her 'complicated'? And if so, did that mean they couldn't really ever be friends?

They ended up watching the Christmas episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Rachel was immediately enthralled, and even Santana had to give her a couple of points for that. She wanted to watch more of it, but that went against the Christmas rules, so Santana promised to lend her the complete series on DVD. Something stuttered in Quinn's brain as she listened to them talking about it. This whole conversation seemed oddly familiar to her…

Quinn suddenly stood up out of her seat. "The complete series!" she nearly yelled, looking around at them. They all wore matching confused faces, and she blushed, embarrassed at the outburst. "Sorry," she said, voice going back to normal. "It's just, last month Sam and I were talking about television shows we watched growing up and he said he was big into Dr. Who even though it was British, and I told him I watched this," she pointed to the screen where the Buffy menu was playing. "He said he'd never seen it before." Santana's eyes lit up, catching on, while Brittany and Rachel just sat staring at her. "It'd make a good Christmas present."

"The best," Santana said, sitting back and smiling, happy to share Buffy with someone new. That was almost two people in one day, so she was looking particularly smug. "You should definitely get it for him." She paused. "Except… didn't you two break up?"

Rachel's head shot up at this, a questioning look in her eyes. "Not necessarily," Quinn said carefully. "We're not really broken up as much as kind of on a… cooling off period? But it's Christmas, and I can't _not_ get him a present. Then we'd definitely be broken up." Brittany looked over at Quinn, their previous conversation still on her mind. 'But you're not sure if you still want to date him' she'd said. Quinn still didn't have an answer to that one.

"It's only two days 'til Christmas, Q," Santana said. "It's kind of now or never on the shopping."

"We'd have to hit the mall," Quinn said, glancing down at her phone. She'd promised to call Hiram and Leory if any plans changed from sitting around watching movies. "Is everyone good with that?"

Santana and Brittany immediately agreed, always up for a trip to the mall, though Santana did say she didn't want to stay all day, that they had still had a lot of movies left to watch. Rachel, however, stayed quiet. Going to sit on the arm of the couch beside Rachel, Quinn turned to the brunette. "Rach, we don't all have to go if you don't want to. I can go tomorrow or by myself or something." Santana and Brittany looked on at Rachel who was biting her bottom lip, again hugging that damned pillow. Quinn felt like she'd have to steal it or burn it or something before the day was over just to stop her using it as a shield. "If you don't feel comfortable-"

"No," Rachel said, shaking her head. "It's just the mall, right? I mean, it'll probably be so crowded that no one will even notice me. It'll be fine."

"Are you sure? Because-"

"No, I'm fine," Rachel said, standing up. "You have the anxiety pills, and I have my hoodie that I can pull up if people start… I don't know. Staring or something like those women in the grocery store." Quinn saw a what-the-fuck-hell-no look on Santana's face, and it was almost sweet seeing her pissed off in Rachel's defense. Rachel, however, was putting on her best show smile and Quinn could tell she was mentally psyching herself up like she did before a performance. "No, no. It'll be fine."

After giving Santana and Brittany time to change, or shower, in Santana's case, and after texting, then calling, then basically begging Hiram and Leroy to let Rachel go to the mall, they were all headed towards Santana's BMW when Brittany shouted, "Wait!" They all turned to stare at her. "We have to take separate cars."

"Uh, why, Britts?" Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because some of us might be buying presents for the others," Brittany said, comically widening her eyes as the rest of the conversation with Brittany finally pinged in her head. Rachel's present. She couldn't very well get it with Rachel there. "That way, if I bought something for, say… Santana, you and Rachel could take it and hide it at your house. Except, you know, flip that, skip it, and reverse it."

"B, are you getting me a Missy Elliot CD?" Santana asked, chuckling. She already knew what Brittany was saying, but the blonde made her laugh the way she explained things sometimes. It had taken Quinn a while to figure out she had to translate Brittany, but Santana had seemed to know it automatically. It was just another example of how Quinn knew they were made for each, if only Santana could not be so scared and come out. The irony was not lost on her.

"Good idea, Britts," Quinn said, taking Rachel's hand and leading her towards her own little red VW Beetle. Again she opened the door for her, holding her good hand and helping her into the car. Looking back at Santana and Brittany, who wore a questioning look and a happy look respectively, Quinn shook her head and went around to her side of the car, getting in. Let them think whatever they wanted to. Quinn was just helping Rachel because she was injured. The same reason she had helped her into and out of the car that morning. It had nothing to do with anything else. Quinn kept telling herself that all the way to the mall.

Once there, they parked near the back of the parking lot, one of the only places left nearly two days before Christmas. They had plans to meet at the food court for pretzels, another of their non-Sue Sylvester-approved eating habits. Mallratting the day away called for soft pretzels.

Thinking the name must have in some way summoned her because at that very moment, Quinn heard Sue Sylvester shrieking through a bullhorn. "YOU THINK THIS IS HARD?"

Rachel jumped and clutched at her heart melodramatically, causing Quinn to giggle at the brunette. "Sorry," Quinn said, pulling the cell phone from her purse. "It's just my phone. The 'Sue Sylvester Special Alert', she likes to call it." Glancing down, she read the words, joy flitting through her chest.

'Q- Practice is cancelled tomorrow. Alert the minions.'

Quinn had hoped and prayed that Jean Sylvester would come through for her again this year as she had the past two, not that last year mattered as much with her being off the Cheerios. Jean was too nice a person to ever let Coach Sue hold a practice on Christmas Eve. Quinn had only met Jean a couple of times at different cheerleading competitions, but it was clear that Sue Sylvester adored her sister. It almost humanized the woman. Almost. Sending a mass text to all the Cheerios was a matter of a couple of buttons, and pretty soon all the Cheerios would be getting the same update/warning.

'Practice is cancelled tomorrow. Thank Jean. Don't stuff yourselves over the holiday or you'll be paying for it on Mon. Double suicides to anyone late Mon morning. -Q'

"Go Jean," Santana said, walking up with Brittany and taking a seat at the table Quinn had led Rachel to while she'd been texting. She wanted to say it was pure talent, texting and guiding like that while dodging Christmas shoppers, but people just had a habit of getting out of her way wherever she walked. School, the mall, wherever. Quinn supposed she simply put off an aura of get-the-fuck-out-of-my-way. _The Ice Quinn cometh_, Santana would usually say after seeing it. Whatever. Santana was a bitch. "Way to hook a bitch up."

"Oh, yay!" Brittany said, clapping from her seat. "Does this mean we get to go jogging tomorrow?"

"Sure, Britts," Quinn said, smiling. "But it has to be early. Mom has family coming over at noon, so I need to be back by ten at the latest in order to get ready so she doesn't lose her mind. This is our first Christmas without…" she paused, unable or unwilling to talk about her father, she wasn't sure, "…you know, and she's worried that everyone will be weird, so she wants me there early. It's mostly just to keep her calm, though."

"That's okay," Brittany said. "We were going to have a practice at seven tomorrow anyway. Couldn't we just get up then and go?"

"The fuck-?" Santana started, turning to Brittany. "Baby, I know you're trying to be helpful, but you're killing me here. Can I not sleep in one morning?"

Brittany started to get pouty. "Are you still mad that I woke you up this morning? I thought you liked it when I sucked on your-"

"Brittany!" Santana said, flinging an arm around the tall blonde's head, hand landing on her mouth. "I'm sure smurfette and the prude don't want to hear about that. And I'm definitely not mad at _how_ you woke me up, just a little upset with _when_ you woke me up."

"Sorry," Brittany said sadly.

"Aw, Britts, don't pout," Santana said. "You know it kills me." Looking at the still sad girl, Santana sighed, then added, "How about if I buy us all pretzels?"

Brittany's eyes lit up, and Quinn was almost sure Santana was getting played. "And milkshakes?"

"…fine."

"Strawberry, please," Brittany said, once again happy. "And a cinnamon sugar pretzel."

"Vanilla," Quinn said. "Plain pretzel."

They all turned to Rachel who sat watching the people out in the mall, not even paying attention to the conversation at hand. "Midge," San called to her, getting Rachel to turn around. "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry, I…" Rachel said, shaking her head. "I wasn't paying attention, I guess. What was the-"

"Santana's buying us pretzels and milkshakes," Brittany explained. "I'm getting a cinnamon sugar pretzel and strawberry milkshake because I'm fruity and sweet. Quinn's getting vanilla and plain pretzel which is like her because she's super prudish and boring-"

"Hey!"

"-and Santana's getting a chocolate peanut butter milkshake and parmesan cheese pretzel because she likes either weird things or hot things, which I'm totally both. So now you have to pick a pretzel and milkshake flavor combination that'll totally describe you."

"Oh, I don't- that's kind of a lot of…" Rachel trailed off. "Can't I just get what you're getting, Brittany? The cinnamon sugar pretzel sounds good."

"Sure," Brittany said. "But what about the milkshake?"

"Oh, I don't really drink milk," Rachel said. "But if I could get a lemonade or-"

But whatever Rachel's other option was going to be was drowned out by Santana's sudden uproarious laughter. She laughed so hard that she was nearly doubled over and had to walk away. She drew stares from the other shoppers as she walked past, and they could hear her all the way to the pretzel place saying something about "pressed lemons" the entire way.

Quinn felt her own cheeks tinge red. She looked over at Brittany who was smiling and patting Rachel's hand. Rachel just looked confused as she looked around for some kind of explanation that wasn't coming.

"So," Quinn said, breaking what she considered an awkward silence. "Jogging tomorrow. We can just go from San's house to the park, if that's cool." She looked over at Brittany who nodded an affirmative, then nodded her head over at Rachel. Quinn eyes went wide, realizing what Brittany was _not_ saying. "Rachel, since you're going to be spending the night with us, would you want to go jogging, too? I know you usually do your whole elliptical thing in the mornings, but since you won't actually have that with you, you could join us. If you wanted."

Rachel bit her lip and looked around at the shoppers. "I actually haven't used my elliptical in a month or so," she said. "I don't know if I'd be able to keep up with you guys, so I don't know."

"Rachel, you have awesome legs," Brittany said, earning a faint blush from the brunette. "Even if they are tiny. You could totally keep up. And if you get tired, you can go piggy back." Then Brittany's eyes lit up again. "Oh! Can we do that anyway?"

As Brittany rambled on about riding piggy back and toting Rachel around in her pocket, Quinn couldn't help but think that tomorrow would be six days since… and she had been around or hung out with Rachel every day, barring that first morning Rachel threw her out. Not only had Quinn been around her, but she'd actually enjoyed being around her… mostly. She was even a little upset that they wouldn't get to hang out tomorrow because of her mom's family coming over. True, it was the first Christmas without Russell so it should definitely be a merry one, but not seeing Rachel for that long was kind of putting a damper on the holiday… which sucked, because Christmas was her favorite holiday.

Going from Rachel to Sam, Quinn realized there was definitely something wrong with that picture. While she'd seen Rachel nearly every day, she'd only seen Sam twice in that same time period, and she wasn't even missing him. It didn't say good things about their relationship if she could go that long without seeing him, without really even thinking about him. Rachel had been on her mind nearly all the time as Quinn had thought about the girl getting better, about her going back to school, as Quinn did her best not to imagine what would have happened if she hadn't looked at MySpace that night. _No, can't think like that_, Quinn said to herself. She was already having enough problems with those thought at night while she tried to sleep, she wouldn't let them invade her day also.

"Rachel," Brittany said after a moment. "Now that I think about it, I don't think Santana can carry all that stuff by herself. Will you go help her with it? She's just over there." Brittany was pointing towards Santana who was carrying a tray with drinks and standing in line at The Pretzel Shack. "Please." When Rachel looked doubtful, Brittany added, "I wanted to ask Quinn about a present for Santana, a sexual thing, and I'm sure San wouldn't want you knowing about it. She probably doesn't want Q knowing, but they're besties, so who else can I ask, right?"

Rachel nodded, reluctantly agreeing, and started making her way between shoppers towards Santana. "Britt," Quinn said cautiously, "if it's a… sex… gift, um… I'm not sure-"

"No, no," Brittany said, smiling as sneakily as she could which, honestly, wasn't much. The girl was too sweet. "I just needed Rachel to go so we could talk about her present." And Quinn and Brittany soon found themselves in a heated discussion over the best way to make it to the pet store without Rachel following along. Brittany knew the owners of the store where they adopted out pets as she hung out there sometimes, so she had to go, and Quinn was the one getting it and had to be there to pick it out as well as pay for it and all the accessories that would be needed. This left Santana to hang out with Rachel again which Quinn really wasn't comfortable with, even if Santana had apologized to Rachel and was trying to be friends with her.

"Shh, shh," Brittany said as Santana and Rachel joined them back at the table. They passed out the drinks and pretzels as they sat down, Rachel joining Quinn again on her side of the table while Santana joined Brittany. They sat there talking for a few minutes as they enjoyed their pretzels. Well, Quinn, Santana, and Brittany were talking. Rachel just seemed to nod along occasionally and look out at the people as they passed.

After pretzels and milkshakes, they truly hit the mall, going to a few different shops, Brittany and Santana trying on different outfits, even getting Quinn to try on some. Rachel, meanwhile, would sit back and laugh occasionally, but mostly she stared out at the other people shopping. Not like she was looking for anyone or waiting for anything. She just seemed… bored, Quinn finally decided. And a little confused. Like she wasn't sure why she was there or what she was supposed to be doing with them.

Walking through the mall, Santana nodded for Quinn to hang back while Rachel and Brittany walked ahead, arm in arm. "Is Berry alright?" Santana asked. "Okay, stupid question. She tried to kill herself less than a week ago. But, I mean… is this normal for her now? Like, normal for the _new_ her, I guess?"

"I…" Quinn started, running a hand through her hair. "God, I don't even know anymore." Santana shot her a look of sympathy which was just weird for her. Rachel being quiet, Santana being decent… everything felt wrong. "I've been looking at stuff online, and, I mean, yeah, maybe? Like one of the survivor stories said that they would have days where they'd just stare at the television or the computer and just zone out for hours, going over everything in their head. And, I guess she might be doing that? It's kind of a lot to deal with, I'm sure."

"Yeah…" Santana dragged out. After a quiet minute of watching Brittany trying to get Rachel to laugh, she said, "We really fucked her up, didn't we?"

Quinn sighed. "I think we really did." They stood in quiet contemplation as Brittany pulled Rachel by the strings of her hoodie into another department store. "Come on," Quinn said. "We should probably go with."

They entered the store but this one was bigger than the rest, and they had somehow lost track of Brittany and Rachel, not seeing them from the entrance. Quinn heard Santana muttering Spanish curses under her breath while she looked around then marched off, knowing Quinn would be following right behind her. After a few minutes of searching around for them, they found Rachel and Brittany in the men's clothing section, looking at scarves and hats. Brittany actually had the brunette smiling as the taller blonde wrapped a scarf around her and stuck a hat on her head. From where they were, they couldn't hear the actual words, but Rachel laughed, and that in turn made Quinn smile. Then, it was like Rachel's smile was wiped off.

Rachel and Brittany turned to look at something blocked by a pillar that Quinn and Santana couldn't see. Brittany looked upset, which, much like Santana looking sympathetic, was unusual. Brittany turned to say something to Rachel, but Rachel was still looking past where Brittany stood. Then, she was only looking at the floor, head down, as she took off the scarf and hat.

It was clear that whatever they couldn't see had upset Rachel, and Quinn and Santana were already walking over there when they saw Rachel forcefully push Brittany away from her and scream, "I don't care! I don't want to-" Rachel looked from Brittany, who had tripped and fallen onto the floor to whatever they couldn't see. A glance at Santana could tell she was already getting mad at Rachel, and Quinn broke out into a run to reach the diva before Santana did.

"I can't- I can't do this, Quinn," Rachel said, tears already streaming down her face as Quinn skidded to a halt in front of her. "I can't- with their looking and pointing and laughing- and I know. I _know_ this is how school is going to be, and I can't- no, I won't! I won't, Quinn…" and she fell into Quinn's open arms, burying her face into the blonde's chest. "I can't, Quinn… I can't live like this. It hurts. Everything is… is wrong, and it hurts…"

Santana had slowed down at the sight of Rachel falling apart, finally coming up to where Brittany was on the floor while the tall blonde just stared up at the hugging girls. Quietly, Santana helped Brittany up off the floor, and they just stood there, staring at them. Once Brittany had brushed her butt off, she turned to Santana and said in a hushed voice, "We were looking at getting my dad another present because I don't really like the one I got him, you know. The kitchen knives are just too-"

"Brittany, the point," Santana interrupted, more business-like that rude.

"Right, sorry," Brittany said. "Well then the mean women over there were staring and one said something to the other one and they started laughing at us, and not like nice "we're amusing" laughing, but mean laughing… like, Missy-Gunderson-laughing. And they were looking over this way and pointing and then I told Rachel to just ignore them because they're clearly mean people, but she-"

Again Santana cut her off, this time with a hand to her mouth. After Brittany stopped talking, Santana removed her hand and asked, "Which women?"

"Santana, no," Brittany said. "Don't get kicked out of-"

"Which. Women."

Brittany was nervous and looked over, but Quinn was already pissed off enough that this bullshit had happened once this morning. As far as she was concerned, Santana could do whatever she wanted. Quinn nodded, giving Brittany the go-ahead, and Brittany reluctantly pointed towards the register near them. "Those two at the checkout."

One of the women refused to turn her head in the slightest and looked rather stiff-necked, but the other one was blatantly staring back at them, not seeming to care who saw. They were both in their early to mid-thirties, and it amazed Quinn again that two grown women could act like the idiot children they went to school with. They had already paid for their things and were headed towards the door out to the parking lots before Santana was in yelling distance.

"HEY! BITCH WITH THE STARING PROBLEM!" Santana's yell stopped everyone in the store, and suddenly all eyes were on the Latina. Quinn could tell just from the way she walked up to them that she was in full-on Cheerio Enforcer mode, and it reminded her exactly why she'd chosen Santana as her right-hand woman. "Sorry, I don't know your name, so I'm just going to call you bitch-with-the-staring-problem. Is that all right with you, bitch-with-the-staring-problem?"

The two women were staring at Santana, unbelieving that anyone would talk to them that way. One of the women even started to say something, but Santana cut her off. "I'm sure whatever you were about to say, bitch-with-the-staring-problem's friend, was just super important and totally insightful, but we need to go over something first. That okay with you, bitch-with-the-staring-problem? Good."

Santana turned and pointed back towards where Quinn, Brittany, and Rachel were standing. "Now bitch-with-the-staring-problem, I know those girls you were staring at are two _hot_ pieces of ass that you would just _love_ to get a scoop of, but they're not interested." The woman looked offended at the very idea, but Santana wasn't done. "The little one's a vegan, so she's not interested in _heifer_, and the tall one's too sweet to ever be seen with something as disgusting as you two. I would tell you to go after someone your own age, but really, I wouldn't wish _that_" she motioned up and down to the woman's body, "on anyone. Maybe, bitch-with-the-staring-problem, you could get your skank whore friend here drunk enough to be interested. I doubt that much alcohol exists, but it's a suggestion." She paused to let all of it sink in before taking a step closer. Santana got right in their faces so only the two of them could hear. "See, now that's what it feels like to be the center of unwanted attention. Maybe next time you could think about that and have a little _god damn_ _decency_ before you laugh at the suicidal girl."

Santana turned on her heel and started to walk away while the two women just stared at her retreating form. All around them, Christmas shoppers looked anywhere from mortified that she'd said all that to trying their best to keep from laughing at them. As an afterthought, Santana turned back around and waved. "Oh, and Merry Christmas."

The smile she wore took her all the way back over to where the other three girls stood. "I think it would probably be best if we left this particular store before we were otherwise forcefully asked to leave," Quinn said, pulling Rachel along with her. The brunette had stopped crying but was still buried in Quinn's side as they passed the on-looking customers and exited through the front of the store and back into the main part of the mall.

Once out into the main area of the mall, Quinn led them to the nearest bathroom where she stopped at the sink. Pulling away from Rachel, she dug into her pocket and pulled out a pill bottle, popped the cap and took out a single white pill. "Rachel, pill time. Do you need a drink, or can you take it with the water from the sink?"

"I don't- I don't think I need one," Rachel stuttered out, wiping at her eyes. "I'm through- I'm done crying, and-"

"Nope," Quinn said. "You break down crying, you get a pill. That was the rule we came up with on the phone, right? Last night?"

"That was- that was more your rule than- than mine, and-"

Quinn reached out, taking her hands and silencing her. "Rachel," she said calmly, looking down into the shorter girl's eyes. "You're still shaking, and you look like you could start crying again at any second. Just… just humor me, okay?" Rachel still looked reluctant, so Quinn added a quiet "please?" This got the girl to nod begrudgingly, taking the pill from Quinn's hand.

After she had taken the pill with a single handful of water from the sink, she turned back to where the other three girls stood watching her. She looked down at her feet, embarrassed or guilty, Quinn couldn't tell. "I'm sorry I pushed you, Brittany."

"It's okay," Brittany said, going to hug Rachel, though it was gentle again, like she had first thing that morning. "I'm used to getting knocked around in Cheerios, so it's all good."

Rachel looked up, smiling shyly at Brittany as a thank you, then turned to Santana. "And thank you, Santana, for sticking up for me."

"No probs, Frodo," Santana said, reaching out and hitting her on the shoulder. "It was a lot of fun. Just ask these two," Santana motioned to Brittany and Quinn. "I love putting bitches in their place."

"And she's so good at it," Brittany said. "No one at this school picks on me because everyone's afraid of big badass Santana." Though the nickname was somewhat ruined by the fact that she was poking Santana in the stomach and causing the Latina to unwillingly giggle. "And now, no one will mess with you ever again, either. You're one of us." Then Brittany hesitated. "I mean, if you want to be. You never said…"

"It's- I mean, it's all so sudden and… weird," Rachel said. "I'm a social pariah, and you're the most popular girls at the school. I just wish there was some way no one would notice me."

Quinn and Santana shared a look of 'this is unnatural and it's all our fault', but Santana was the one to speak. "Well that's not happening, Berry. If that last little _incident_ taught us anything, it's that even when you don't want to be the center of attention, you're still going to be. It's who you are. You're either the insanely talented girl on stage, the annoying pain in everyone's ass, or the crazy girl that tried to kill herself." Quinn looked at Santana slightly horrified at her bluntness, because, God, did she really have to talk to Rachel that way, but Santana just blew her off. "So if that's how it's going to be, then that's how it's going to be. Might as well let some people have your back, though, right?"

"I…" Rachel started hesitantly, wanting to argue, because, hey, also clearly in her nature, but she stopped herself. "You're right. Thank you. I'm going to hug you now."

But Santana was blocking her yet again. "Seriously, though, Berry. You've got to knock off all this hugging shit." Putting her hands on Rachel's shoulders, she turned the girl towards Brittany. "Consider it like Twilight. She's your go-to. Anytime you feel like hugging me, go to Brittany."

"Or Quinn," Brittany said cheerfully. "I'm sure she doesn't mind hugging you."

Quinn just made some noncommittal noise, but again Santana was looking at her like something was up. "We should get going," Quinn said. "More shopping to do and all that."

As they made their way out of the bathroom, Rachel and Quinn in front with the other two following along, Quinn heard Brittany behind her talking closely to Santana. "That was so hot, standing up for Rachel like that. You are _so_ getting some tonight." Quinn felt her ears turn red at the conversation, and looking over at a blushing Rachel told her she'd heard the same thing. _Note to self_, Quinn thought. _Stay in the guest bedroom furthest away from Santana's room._

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**Longer Author's Note: A few things… First off, a thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites. Knowing that other people like this story really keeps me inspired. I really enjoy responding to the reviews, as anyone can tell that's read my review response ramblings (yay alliteration!). Even the anonymous reviewers are awesome. Mostly. There are a few of you that feel this isn't the story for you and have told me. That's cool. This is a huge fandom, and there are a lot of other great stories out there. I can even recommend some of the better ones I've read. Ones that are far better than mine. Just know that I consider all the reviews of this story, even the not so nice ones, as long as they're well-reasoned, so if you have a genuine complaint other than "I don't like this character" or "that character sucks", please, PLEASE let me know. Also, for anyone that might have issues with my version of Santana, I'm actually painting her as a nicer person in this story than they did on the show at the time. Anyone that doesn't believe it, go back and watch the first half of season two. With her being so awesome later, people tend to forget that she was kind of a hurtful bitch.**

**Number Two: If anyone read my other story that I started, "The Adventures of Lucy and Babs", I didn't take that down. FanFictionNet took it down. The reason that I got was because of the Facebook conversation in it. Apparently you can't have "scripts". I know, it's kind of ridiculous when you consider some of the other stories out there, but I don't begrudge them anything. I'm either going to try and change it and repost it, or else post it somewhere else. I've been told LiveJournal is the place to go, but I don't have one, so I'll have to see about that.**

**Thirdly, I promise you, "mi patita" means "my (female) duckling", not "my leg". I mean, it can also mean that, too, but my Hispanic friend told me that it's more like an animal leg rather than a person's leg, and that Santana definitely wouldn't be calling Brittany a leg. Google Translate (which is what I use sometimes when reading other people's stories) can be weird sometimes. I will sometimes use Spanish in this story for Santana because I believe a proud Latina like her would throw in Spanish words and phrases now and then. If it's ever something odd, I'll let you know. And if I'm ever wrong about something, please let me know. I will never insult someone's language out of spite, only out of ignorance (which can thankfully be corrected). (Interestingly enough, "patita" in Italian means "suffered" according to Google Translate.)**

**One last thing, then I'll shut up. Heck, you're probably not even still reading. If you are, though, I LOVE when people get my references. If you feel like commenting on them, please do. It makes me happy that there are nerdy people out there like me. To the person last chapter that commented on Big Bang Theory, you get a high five, sir or madam.**

**Again, thanks for the reviews and follows and favorites (oh my!). Please continue to do so. Until next chapter, :-)**


	15. Chapter 15: Christmas Shopping

**Author's Note: Hope you're still enjoying this story. Please read and review if you're so inclined. Reviews make my day.**

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Rachel stood on the cold dressing room floor in her socks, panties, bra, and a t-shirt, looking into the ceiling corners of the room. She'd always hated trying on clothes in fitting rooms. What if there were cameras in there? First off, some pervert was probably watching her undress. Secondly, what if the video got out? She already had 'the photo' from freshman year to contend with once her inevitable stardom took off. It was technically considered child pornography so she doubted it would ever see the light of the day considering whoever came forth with it and tried to profit on her stardom would face serious jail time. She was clearly older now, though, and only another year from being eighteen, and some pervert selling footage of her in a dressing room could easily make the argument that she was eighteen at the time. Would Rachel really remember the circumstances of every time she changed in a dressing room enough to argue the point of child pornography versus unscrupulous footage taking? Well, okay, yes. She would. She had an excellent memory. Still, she didn't want to have to go to court over this if not absolutely necessary, so she kept changing in dressing rooms to a bare (_no pun intended, though it was kind funny_, she thought) minimum.

_Tangent much, Rachel?_ She'd learned that new phrase this morning while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and now she really wanted a chance to use it on someone other than herself. Buffy had been an amazing piece of storytelling and she'd truly wanted to watch the rest of it, but apparently there were seven seasons of it, plus another five seasons of its spinoff Angel, so it would have to wait. Angel had been really hot, though. Kind of like Finn, but in a darker, broodier sort of way. And Buffy? Well, Rachel already had a thing for hot blonde cheerleaders, not that she'd ever tell anyone else that. Santana would kill her repeatedly for even looking at Brittany (who was now her new best friend? Weird.), and Quinn… she supposed that Quinn would drop Rachel completely out of her life, and she definitely didn't want that.

Not that she had a crush on either of them. Brittany was super sweet, especially after Rachel had found out it was her leaving the notes in her locker all this time, but she was clearly in love with Santana and Artie already. Adding any more drama to that situation seemed detrimental to her life (and no, the irony was not lost on her that she was currently concerned about her life in that moment. There was a difference between killing herself and Santana killing her).

And Quinn? That ship had sailed and sunk already, remember? And besides, Quinn wasn't even the slightest bit gay. This was the same girl that looked repulsed at school when homosexuality was even mentioned… though that wasn't necessarily true all the time. Quinn had seemed okay with her parents. And Kurt. And Brittany and Santana. Maybe she just had issues with homosexuality in general and not when it applied to specific people. That kind of made sense, right? And even if she was the slightest bit gay (which Rachel felt _sure_ she wasn't), then there was still Sam. Except… hadn't Santana said they'd broken up? It was one of the things Rachel had actually paid attention to, though she wasn't why that- no, she wasn't going to lie to herself- she was _one hundred percent_ sure why that had grabbed her attention (_stupid sunken ship!_). She just wasn't ever going to do anything about it. She actually had friends now, kind of, she supposed. She didn't want to do anything to lose them.

And how weird was it that _those three_ were trying to be her friends now? It almost made sense, in a way. Brittany had always been her 'super-secret ninja friend' (her words, not Rachel's), and she understood that Quinn and Santana both felt guilty for driving Rachel to try and kill herself. It wasn't their fault, though. No one seemed to get that. It wasn't anyone's fault but hers. Rachel's. They… the Unholy Trinity, her parents, Finn… no one seemed to understand. She just wasn't good enough for people to love her. It was all her fault. If she had just been better, tried harder. If she hadn't been an insufferable know-it-all. A diva. A pushy, ugly, bossy, fashion-sense challenged little miss perfect brownnoser. She could have stepped back and let other people have the spotlight. She could have been nicer to people. She could have given Finn her virginity. She could have been whatever they needed her to be. Then, maybe Shelby wouldn't have replaced her. Maybe Finn wouldn't have dumped her. Maybe people wouldn't hate her so much.

"You get lost in there, short stack?" Santana called out from the other side of the dressing room door.

Rachel blinked a couple of times and wiped away a stray tear. She'd zoned out again, forgot she was in the dressing room at all. "No, I'm- I was just thinking," she said, pulling on the skirt that was the next thing in the line of clothes that Santana had told her to try on. "Sorry."

"Well cut that shit out," Santana said, as if it was that easy. "We don't have all day."

Rachel walked out of the dressing room with the t-shirt and skirt that Santana had basically made her try on. After they'd split up (which Rachel was against but didn't say anything about as she didn't want to say the wrong thing and upset her new friends), Santana had told her in no uncertain terms that all her clothes were hideous and that she was going to burn them. Now that they were "friends", Santana had said using air quotes, she was going to give Rachel the option of not actually being in them when she burned them. She would also use her expertise to help Rachel pick out a new wardrobe.

"I… umm… I don't really have the money for that," Rachel had said, trying to talk her out of it.

"You just leave that to Auntie Santi," Santana had said with a cryptic smile. If she thought Rachel was going to shoplift, though, she had another thing coming to her. She'd already hurt her dads enough with her suicide attempt. She wasn't going to disappoint them even further. Not yet, anyway. It may come to that, but she wasn't going to be a delinquent until then.

"Nice," Santana said, snapping a picture with her phone. She'd been taking pictures of every outfit to send to Quinn and Brittany to get their responses. Brittany always sent something nice back, saying she was pretty or hot or some other lie that was complimentary. Quinn's responses, though, were always more critical/helpful. Because of that, Quinn was the one Santana seemed to trust, though that was one of those things they would never tell Brittany. Santana thrust another dress into Rachel's hands and said, "Next," pushing her back towards the fitting room.

Again she was in the fitting room, taking off clothes, being careful of her stitches on one wrist, tendon brace on the other. Santana had offered to help her get dressed and undressed, but Rachel had declined, even though it would take longer. She didn't want to make Santana have to look at her if she could help it. Santana was used to being around pretty girls like the Cheerios. Rachel "Man-Hands" "Treasure Trail" "RuPaul" "Tranny Queen" Berry didn't even come close to measuring up. She wouldn't force Santana to see her half undressed. _Santana is probably glad_, Rachel though.

Looking around as she changed into the dress, Rachel tried to remember the name of the store she was in. She couldn't. She guessed she wasn't paying attention when they had come into it. That had been happening a lot today. She wasn't sure if it was the pain meds making her sleepy, the depression meds making her gray, or just the whole 'trying to kill myself' thing that had her that way, but she could tell it was affecting everyone else's day. It made her hate herself just that little bit more.

Finally getting the dress on, Rachel looked into the mirror. She couldn't wear this to school. It was too short, too plunging, too revealing. No one would want to see her like this. And even if they did, she wouldn't want the type of people that would want to look at her looking at her like that. People like Jacob Ben Israel who had some kind of creepy fetish for ugly big-nosed Jewish girls, it seemed. Or people like Puck, who would have sex with anything with breasts and a pulse. Or Finn, who would take one look at her and realize she was trying to whore herself out in a dress like that. She still had some respect.

"I can't wear this, Santana," Rachel said from behind the door.

"What? Why not? Is it too tight?" Santana asked. "Move over, I'm coming in." Before Rachel could protest, Santana was already barging in, looking Rachel over. She stopped, frozen in her tracks. "Wow."

"I know," Rachel said. "I can't pull it off. It's just too much for me. It would look better on someone like you or Brittany or Quinn. I'm not- It's not me."

"No, Berry, good wow," Santana said, still staring. "You're definitely getting that one."

"No, I don't think- ow!" Santana had already grabbed her upper arm, careful to stay away from the stitches on her right forearm, and was pulling her out of the dressing room.

"Stand still, Berry," Santana said, taking another picture and sending it to Quinn and Brittany. Once that was done, she looked over at Rachel. "Now what do you mean you don't think you can work a dress like that? From where I'm standing, you already are."

"That's… flattering, really," Rachel said, looking down, "but I would appreciate it if you wouldn't lie to me. That's not helping anything."

"You think I'm lying to you?" Santana asked, clearly curious.

"I know… I know just how… _ugly_ I am, okay," Rachel said. "And I appreciate what you're trying to do here for me, trying to build my confidence up so that I can go back to school and hold my head up high, but you don't have to lie to me to do it. You can compliment me on my singing or my grades or something, if you'd like. Please just stop lying."

"Wow," Santana said again, looking at her for a minute while her phone buzzed, though she ignored it while she scrutinized Rachel, who was still studiously looking down. "We really did screw you up, didn't we?"

Rachel didn't respond, so Santana took a couple of steps closer putting a comforting hand on Rachel's arm. "Do you know what real power is?" Santana asked, causing Rachel to look up in confusion. "Real power isn't controlling people, getting people to do what you want. Real power is telling a lie and, even though everyone knows it's a lie, getting them to believe it. Quinn and I, we have power at that school."

"So… what?" Rachel asked, anger starting to rise. She knew they were manipulative, but how dare they use it for her benefit after they'd hurt her all this time? How could they ever think that she'd want that? "You're just going to do that and get everyone to believe that I'm pretty when I'm not? Get people to compliment me when they really hate me? I'll still know the truth, Santana! They won't- they're not going to-"

Suddenly, Santana wrapped her arms around Rachel, pulling her into a hug that was so unexpected it startled Rachel into quietness. "No, Berry," Santana said in a soft voice. "We already did it."

"What? I don't…"

"You're beautiful, Berry," Santana said, pulling back to look in her eyes. "A full on hottie. And I don't mean a hot mess, either. I mean 'tie me to the bed and fuck me all night' hot." Stepping back, she looked at Rachel again, who was blushing at the sexual remark. "That hair, that smile, those legs. God, people should build a shrine to those legs. Those are 'wrapped around my waist, three fingers deep' legs."

"Oh my God, Santana," Rachel said with a shocked, embarrassed laugh, covering her face. She had to be completely Kool-Aid Man red by now.

Santana smirked, pulling her phone from her pocket. "Let's see what the troops have to say." She read her phone, laughing. "Brittany says 'Tell Rach that if she ever wants to join us, she totes can'." Now Rachel was wide-eyed, though unable to make eye contact with Santana. "She also says Q is unable to respond but keeps glancing back at the picture and says 'definitely yes' to that one." After putting her phone away, she looked back up at Rachel. "See?"

"I guess," Rachel said doubtfully. "I just don't-" But she was cut off by Santana's phone ringing.

"That's probably Q now telling you to get that dress," Santana said with a smirk, but she looked down at the caller ID, her eyebrows scrunched up. "It's mami." Answering the phone, she said, "Hola, ma-" but was then cut off, holding the phone away from her ear as Rachel heard her mother yelling "Santana Diabla Lopez!" followed by a loud intense shouting in Spanish. Santana looked to be trying to explain herself, but not getting a word in.

"Sí, but-"

"No, but I didn't-"

"No, okay?"

"Yes, I should have-"

"They were-"

"You didn't hear what-"

"Well, then they're not very good Christians."

"No, I don't think that's-"

Eventually she shouted over the top of her mother "They were making fun of Rachel, okay!" Santana was silent for a moment after that as Rachel stared at her, but Santana was facing the other way. Quietly in Spanish, Santana was talking to her mother and even though Rachel had good grades in Mr. Schuester's Spanish class, she had no idea what was said in the low rushed conversation. If Santana's outburst was any indication, though, it was about her. Eventually, Santana turned to Rachel and held the phone out for her, saying, "Mami, would like to speak with you."

"…hello?" Rachel said, holding Santana's phone up to her ear.

"Hello, Rachel," Ms. Lopez said, her sweet voice the complete opposite of what Rachel had heard yelling at Santana. "Santana told me those women from my church were making fun of you. Is that true?"

"Um…" she started, looking at Santana. "I… I think they were, yes."

"It's okay, sweetie," Ms. Lopez said. "You're not in any trouble. I'm just trying to find out what happened before I punish mi idiota."

"Oh, please don't, Ms. Lopez," Rachel said. "She was just being nice and trying to defend me and I don't want her to get in trouble since we're newly established friends. I know I probably brought it on Brittany and myself with them pointing and laughing at me. It's really not anybody's fault but mine. Please don't-"

"Shh, Rachel," Ms. Lopez said, trying to quiet her through the phone. "It's not your fault, okay? Those two putas from my church are to blame, not you. Let me talk to Santana again, please."

Rachel handed the phone back to Santana who was again talking quietly to her mother. After another minute, they hung up, and it left Rachel and Santana staring at each other. "She said we'll talk about it when we get home," Santana said, looking as nervous as Rachel had ever seen her. "That's never good."

"I'm sorry," Rachel said. "I didn't mean to get you into trouble. I shouldn't have-"

"What?" Santana snapped. "Existed? Gone out in public? Tried to have a fun day? That's bullshit. This isn't your fault, Berry. Don't blame yourself for those bitches. Some people are just assholes."

"But, I-"

"No buts, Berry," Santana said, shoving another outfit, this time jeans and a sweater, into her hands. "Go try this on while I text Britts and Q."

After another fifteen minutes of trying on different clothes, Santana finally said over the door, "Okay, Berry, time for a tradeoff. Q's here to spend a little quality time with you while me and Britts go take care of some things. Coolio? So change back into your clothes and get out here."

"Um, I- okay," Rachel said. After putting her jeans, sweatshirt and shoes back on, Rachel exited the fitting room to see Quinn having a whispered conversation with Santana while they smiled and looked at Quinn's cell phone. "What are you two looking at?"

"Nothing," they both said quickly as Quinn stuffed the phone in her pocket.

Rachel eyed them both, unconvinced. She stood there with the last outfit in her hand, face scrunched as she thought. She then looked back at the dressing room, noticed how the door to the dressing room didn't go all the way to the floor or the ceiling, then back to the two of them standing there and looking like they were hiding something, and, suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. "Did you…" It didn't even seem possible. "Did you take… take pictures of me while I was changing? Is that what that is? Is that why you're smiling? Were you… were you laughing-"

"God, no, Rachel," Quinn said. "I promise. I just…" She looked back at Santana who just shrugged, then looked at Rachel again. She sighed, clearly frustrated. "Okay, look, fine. I got you a present for Christmas even though I know you don't really celebrate, and I was just showing it to Santana. That's where she and Brittany are going, to drop it off at my house so you won't see it. I wanted it to be a surprise. It's been a… a rough week, and I thought you could use something to cheer you up, okay?"

"Oh," Rachel said, feeling stupid. "I'm sorry, I just… I thought… I'm sorry."

"It's cool, Berry," Santana said, stepping forward. "It totally sounds like something we would have done. But you have to get it through that tiny Jewish head of yours," she tapped Rachel on the side of the head, "that we're on your side now. We got your back, Jack. Bitches is crazy."

"I'm just… this is all so new to me," Rachel said. "And weird. And I keep thinking that it's going to be some kind of prank. That I'm going to be friends with you three until one day you turn on me in front of the entire school."

"Okay, yeah, that does definitely sound like me and Q here, but not Brittany," Santana said. "Even if you don't trust us yet, trust her. She'd never lie to you, and we'd never lie to her. So if we tell you… if we tell Britts… that you're one of us, then that's how it is."

Rachel was quiet for a moment, looking at the two cheerleaders in front of her. Santana was easy to trust. She knew that Santana would never hurt Brittany if she could help it. Santana had been horrible to her, but she'd always been honest about it. Quinn, on the other hand, was a master manipulator. That had been the rumor even before the paternity debacle. And if she could lie about something as important as the father of her child, how could she be trusted with someone as unimportant as Rachel Berry? They had said in the hospital that they would be honest, though, and so far, she thought that Quinn had been. Their conversations hadn't been in-depth or anything, but she'd cried about her father in front of Rachel. Wasn't that something?

"You're right," Rachel said finally. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Rachel. Really," Quinn said, though the look in her eyes wasn't as sure about it. She looked hurt that Rachel had doubted her, or maybe hurt that she'd given Rachel reason to doubt her. "We should let Santana get going, though. They have to take your present."

"Right," Santana said. "So, this is the pile that we liked," Santana pointed from one stack to the next, "and this is the 'no' pile. The maybes and haven't-tried-on-yet are all here." She pointed to a third and fourth stack. Stooping down, she grabbed everything but the 'no' pile and headed up towards the register. "You bitches coming or not?"

"Santana, wait, I can't pay for-" But Quinn abruptly grabbed her arm and cut her off.

"Don't say anything," Quinn said seriously, almost harshly, but keeping her voice quiet. "I'll explain later. Let Santana do this for you. Say thank you, but don't make a big deal out of it." Then, as suddenly as they had stopped, they were walking again, Rachel being pulled along by Quinn.

At the register, the cashier was already ringing up the clothes and stuffing them into bags. The total came to $617.23. Rachel couldn't help staring as Santana handed her credit card over, but a stern look from Quinn stopped even that.

Once everything was settled, Santana handed the bags over to Quinn, and said, "You make such an adorable pack mule, Q. Merry Christmas, Berry. We'll see you both back at casa de Lopez as soon as you get Trouty Mouth's gift. I'm giving you an hour, Q. We have a lot more movies to watch, so hurry it the fuck up."

"Wow, a whole hour?" Quinn deadpanned. "Thanks, S. You're the best."

"Yes, thank you, Santana," Rachel said, though hers was more sincere.

Santana just gave her a rare genuine smile and nodded her head, then turned back to Quinn. "An hour's twice as long as the 'rents gave you to get the fuck out, if I remember correctly. You'd _think_ you'd be thankful."

Rachel was mortified, as Finn had told her the story of Quinn having thirty minutes set by a microwave timer when her parents kicked her out. Quinn just said, "You suck, Santana."

"Among other things," she said, smirking as she walked away. "Fifty-eight minutes."

On their way to F.Y.E. to get Sam's present, Quinn said, "Santana buying you those clothes is her way of apologizing. That, and making you feel welcome as part of our little group. She took me maternity shopping after my parents kicked me out. It's crazy how on again, off again our friendship was during that time, though I guess Sue forbidding them kind of explains it now. She's not that bad deep down. She just sucks at talking about stuff. She's more about grand gestures than heartfelt conversations. Plus, money's kind of not an object for her." She was silent for a moment before her eyes lit up, and she turned to Rachel. "Oh, and when you start watching Angel, remember today."

"What, why?"

"I'm not going to ruin it," Quinn said, grinning. "Just keep it in mind. You'll know what I'm talking about when you see it."

"…okay?" Rachel walked beside her through the mall, and she could see that people were staring at the two of them, staring at her, but she ignored it as best she could. Quinn, if she noticed, didn't say anything. After another few minutes, a question popped into Rachel's head. "Did… No, never mind. It's stupid."

"No, what, Rach?"

"Did her parents really name her Santana Diabla?" Rachel asked, grinning. "Satan devil?"

"Her mom told me it was a difficult pregnancy," Quinn said, giggling, and it was such music to Rachel's ears that she joined in, too. "And that's after having two kids already. She said the only thing she craved while pregnant was spicy foods. The spicier, the better. She worried for a while that she was possessed by some kind of demon."

"She kind of was," Rachel said, and they were both laughing now as they walked into the store. She followed Quinn over to where the DVDs of different television shows were, picking up the different seasons of Buffy and turning them over to look at the back… until Quinn smacked her good hand. "Ow!"

"Okay, one, that didn't hurt, you baby," Quinn said with a teasing grin. "And two, you can't skip ahead. If you read something on one of the boxes, it might ruin the surprise. So… no. You'll just have to wait until you start watching it for yourself."

"Fine," Rachel said, setting the DVD set back down while pouting a little. She really hated waiting for anything, and she _really_ wanted to know what happened with Buffy and Faith and Angel. She noticed Quinn had already picked up the entire series of Buffy on DVD, as it was the same thing that Santana had shown her back at her house.

"Come on, let's go," Quinn said, grabbing her good hand and leading her away. Her hand felt so soft and warm in Rachel's own, unlike Finn's giant paw. His large, rough hands had always seemed to smother her small hand. Quinn's just seemed to… fit. "Let's get you away from all that temptation," she added with another giggle. Quinn was clearly in a good mood. Maybe it had something to do with Christmas shopping. It was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, and shopping did tend to make-

"Oh, no!" Rachel halted in the middle of the store so suddenly that her hand was unceremoniously jerked out of Quinn's. When Quinn looked back at her, Rachel said, "You bought me a present."

"Yeah?" Quinn said. "I told you that already. I thought you would like something to kind of help after this week."

"You bought me a present," Rachel said again. "A Christmas present."

"…yes?" Quinn said haltingly. "Is this because you're Jewish, or…?"

"You bought me a Christmas present two days before Christmas," Rachel said, almost desperately. "And I only have less than an hour to find something for you? Two days before Christmas? Oh, no. No, no, no. I can't find a meaningful, perfect gift for you in that time. Maybe if I'd been given more notice, but not in an hour _two days before Christmas_. And- why are you laughing at me?!" Rachel wasn't panicking per se, not like she had back in the other store with the women, but Quinn's laughter wasn't exactly helping her either.

"I'm… I'm sorry, R… Rachel," Quinn said between bouts of laughing. People were staring at them, but this time they were staring more at the blonde laughing in the middle of the store rather than at Rachel. After she had calmed down some, Quinn finally said, "That was just such a 'Rachel Berry' thing to say it took me by surprise. It was like you were back to your old self for a minute."

"I…" Rachel started, stopped, started again, and stopped again, finally going back to what she had said in the hospital. She stumbled over the thoughts in her head. It was Quinn's doing. Her dads were more caring and Brittany was sweet and Santana was all 'tough love' but Quinn…? Quinn talked to her and treated her like she was just Rachel, and it made her feel better. "You…" she started again, quietly, and Quinn stepped forward to hear her better, stepping into her personal space. "You make it better. You make me feel… normal."

Quinn stared at her for a long moment, and Rachel could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted to say something, but instead she shook her head and sniffed, holding back unshed tears. "Then that," Quinn said, voice thick, "is all the present I need." And she took Rachel's hand again in hers, Rachel again feeling how right it felt, and pulled her along. "Let's get out of here before Santana sends a search party."

As they paid for Sam's present, Quinn again taking her hand to leading her out of the mall, again opening her door for her when they reached Quinn's car, Rachel had to wonder if it was possible to raise a sunken ship.

* * *

They arrived back at Santana's house with seven minutes to spare. Santana and Brittany were waiting in Santana's car in her driveway. They didn't seem to notice when Quinn and Rachel had pulled up. Only once Quinn had again opened Rachel's door and held her good hand as she helped her out, then went over to the driver's side of Santana's car did she see why. Santana's windows were slightly fogged, but she could still easily see that the two were feverishly making out with Brittany nearly straddling the Latina. How she managed to do it with the steering wheel in the way amazed Quinn, but she was already feeling like a creeper staring at them. Any more gawking while trying to figure out the placement of body parts would make it officially weird. Reaching out, Quinn knocked a couple of times on the window, causing a startled Santana to look up, though Brittany didn't seem to mind the audience as she continued to kiss along Santana's neck.

Only after Santana pushed her back some did Brittany lazily reach over, pressing the down button for the window on the door panel. "Oh, hey, Q," Brittany said, happiness lighting up her flushed face. "I was just giving San a preview of what she could expect tonight for playing hero today. Also, she was scared to go in yet."

"I wasn't scared," Santana defended, gently pushing Brittany back into her own seat. "I just thought mami wouldn't be as quick to kill me with more witnesses around."

"Was she that mad?" Quinn asked as Brittany and Santana got out of the car.

"Boob job mad," Santana said. The fallout from Ms. Lopez discovering that Santana had forged her parents' signatures for permission for the surgery had been epic. Santana had said later that her argument of it being her own saved up money, her own body, and the fact that she was an adult were apparently unimportant as Ms. Lopez had nearly yelled herself hoarse and threatened to "rip those implants straight out" if she ever did anything so "stupid, immature, and dangerous" again. "I still can't believe you ratted me out about that."

"I said I wouldn't tell your parents," Quinn said as she and Rachel followed Santana and Brittany towards the house. "I never said anything about Coach Sue."

Santana stopped, hand on the doorknob and turned to face Quinn. "And that is a piece of bitchcraft I would _love_ to have seen," Santana said, appreciating Quinn's deviousness. "Coach swore last year she'd _never_ let you back on the team. That you had let her down personally, and she had to stoop to 'William Schuester levels of pedantic pandering'," she threw in air quotes, mocking the woman, "by getting Kurt to sing and help us win nationals." Santana shrugged. "How you got that woman to let you back on the team is beyond me."

"And that's why I'm the captain," Quinn said, matching Santana's devious smile with a smirk of superiority.

"Whatever, bitch," Santana said. "You got me put on the bottom of the pyramid."

"I also got you off the bottom two weeks later," Quinn said. Her face straightened up into one of seriousness, and she added, "And, really, you're not mad about it. We both know you never wanted to be in charge. You love the power, not the responsibility. That's why you're my lieutenant, my enforcer. You get all the fun of putting the lesser people in their place and don't have to sit with me and coach planning out routines or working out choreography with Britt and Christy." Santana turned away, looking out over the yard. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, Cap," Santana said, but they both knew she was right. Santana hated putting effort into much of anything beyond insulting people for her own amusement. Though wickedly smart, she was a doer, not a planner. To her, that's why the world made people like Rachel Berry. To Quinn, though, cheerleading was the best of both worlds. The nerdier side of Lucy loved planning out routines and choreography as much as the physical side of Quinn loved performing it. Cheerleading was one of the few things she would have loved about William McKinley even if it hadn't made her high school royalty. The popularity was just frosting. "Just watch your back, puta."

"I'm a Fabray," Quinn said, shrugging. "I always do."

Santana opened the door, leading the four of them into the house. As Santana lead the way, they all knew to be as quiet as possible on their trip back to the basement, though none of them spoke of it. Ms. Lopez was a force to be reckoned with when angry, so they took caution to not alert her to their return if they could help it. Not that it mattered much.

"Santana, baby," Ms. Lopez said from her seat at the kitchen table where she had been working on her laptop, probably waiting for them to return. So far her voice was calm, but that didn't really comfort anyone. "Come over here."

Santana's eyes scrunched up and she let out a silent "fuck" before turning her head over to her mom. "Si, mami." Looking over at the other three, she said, "You guys can go ahead to the basement. I'll be down in a bit."

"No, stay," Ms. Lopez said. "This involves all of you." The four shared confused looks but all went over to where Ms. Lopez now stood by her chair, looking at them. To Santana at the head of the group, she said with a smile, though her tone was serious, "Santana, baby, you know I love you, but if you ever talk to an adult like that again in public, I'll bury you under the house. They'll never find the body, mija." Turning to the rest of them, she added, "Brittany, Quinn, you know I love you girls, too, but if you let mi idiota do that again, I will put the two of you beside her." When she'd finished, she looked at them. "Understood?"

"Si, mami," Santana said while the other three nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am."

Noting Rachel, Ms. Lopez's look softened. "Oh, no. Not you, sweetie. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yeah, you have to put time in before you get death threats, Berry," Santana said.

"Santana," Ms. Lopez said, making her name a warning.

"Lo siento, mami," Santana said, automatically apologetic. They all knew this could have gone much worse than the simple warning that Ms. Lopez was giving them.

"It's okay, baby," Ms. Lopez said, reaching out and patting Santana on the cheek a little harder than necessary. "Your mouth es muy estupida, but I know your heart doesn't mean it." They shared a smile before she added, "Now go and finish watching your movies. I'm ordering pizza for dinner because your father's working late tonight, so tell me what you want."

"Berry's vegan, so we need one of those crappy pizzas Izzy ate when she went vegan for a semester and a half," Santana said, turning to look back at Rachel, Quinn, and Brittany. "All meat for me, and a supreme with no olives or onions for Quinn and Britt. Anything else, bi- …guys?" Ms. Lopez arched an eyebrow at Santana's almost slipup, but she chose not to say anything about it.

"Oh! Can we get cheesy bread?" Brittany asked.

"Pizza _is_ cheesy bread, Britts," Quinn said. "It's redundant to get cheesy bread, too." Santana was staring hard and angry at Quinn, though, so she added, "And by that I mean, sure we can!"

"Yay!" Brittany said, clapping. Turning to Rachel, she said, "I like to put the cheesy bread on top of the pizza slice and make a little pizza-y sandwich."

"I think some places have those," Rachel said, turning to Brittany. "They're like Hot Pockets, but more professional. My Daddy brings them home sometimes. The Hot Pockets, not the pizza-sandwich thing. He loves them, but Dad and I can't comprehend why. I think it has something to do with the gross amount of cheese and meat stuffed inside the greasy bread. Whenever he used to microwave them in the morning, they would stink up the whole… kitchen… and…" And it was at that point that Rachel suddenly realized all eyes were on her as she was talking to Brittany. Words seemed to fail her, and she wrapped her arms around herself. "It's not important."

Everyone else had been focused on what Rachel was saying, curiously listening to her as she momentarily ranted about Hot Pockets. It made Quinn smile that she had been going on about something so unimportant, and that feeling of old-Rachel being just below the surface of this newer version struck her again.

"Sure it is, Rachel," Brittany said, encouraging the brunette. "They'd stink up the whole kitchen and…?"

Rachel looked around at the rest of them, patiently waiting for her to finish what she was saying, and Quinn thought it must have been strange for her that people actually wanted her to finish what she was saying. "I just… um… I was just saying that Dad used to get mad about it. It's actually why Dad started cooking breakfast in the mornings. So Daddy wouldn't eat them anymore."

"That's so cool that your Dad makes breakfast every morning," Brittany said, face aglow. The girl was like a puppy, sometimes, in the way that everything excited her. Quinn knew she was turning it up for Rachel's benefit, encouraging her to get involved, and she could have kissed her for it, if not for the obvious reasons. Santana's crazy jealousy, Quinn wasn't gay, etc. "My parents are so busy getting us all out of the house that we usually just have cereal or something. Sometimes Santana brings me stuff. Her mom makes the best sopapillas for breakfast." Her face, if it was possible, lit up even more as she turned to Ms. Lopez. "Oh! Can we have-"

"I already got the ingredients for everything, baby," Ms. Lopez said, using the same pet name for her that she used for Santana and Isabelle. To Ms. Lopez, this tall blonde white girl with the blue eyes had become like another daughter to her and her husband. No matter what might happen between her and their daughter.

"You're the best, mami," Brittany said, running over to throw her arms around Ms. Lopez. The older woman just wrapped her up in her arms, squeezing her just as fiercely.

Quinn glanced over at Santana who had this proud, happy look watching two of the women she loved the most get along so well. If Santana's expression could talk, if Quinn could suddenly read thoughts, then Santana would be saying loud and clear 'I'm going to marry that girl one day.' God, Santana was so stupid. What they shared wasn't sex for fun like Santana tried to convince Brittany and Quinn and everyone else that it was. It was love. Pure and simple. _Fuck it_, Quinn thought. _As her best friend and head bitch, I'm going to have to smack Santana repeatedly until she realizes it, too._

After getting another warning from Ms. Lopez about behaving in public, though she did take Santana aside and say she was proud of her for standing up for Rachel, the four went back downstairs to the basement. Santana and Brittany took up residency in Santana's recliner again. Rachel, after taking some pills, lay back down on the sofa, and Quinn took the chair she'd had earlier in the morning. They ended up watching the first two The Santa Clause movies (since Santana refused to watch the third, citing she hadn't seen "Christmas themed asininity that bad since Mr. Schue's Christmas tie-sweater vest combo") before pizza came.

At some point during the second movie, Rachel had fallen asleep and had to be woken up for dinner. Quinn sat down at her feet, looking down at her, listening to the sounds of Brittany, Santana, Ms. Lopez, and Emilio and Tiffany, Santana's brother and sister-in-law. They had come over to visit with Santana's mom for a while after they had finished some last minute Christmas shopping. Quinn had let Santana and Brittany go on ahead, saying that she would wake Rachel.

The lamp beside Santana's chair was on, but the overhead lights of the basement were still out. Rachel clutched the throw pillow tightly to her, nearly blocking her face, and strands of hair fell over her eyes. She felt bad for Rachel, though that was nothing out of the ordinary in this past week. What was surprising was that it was about something so little and stupid. Rachel had told her between nervous texts the night before that this was her first sleepover, and here Rachel was sleeping through part of it. Leroy had warned Quinn that the pain meds for her healing wrists might make Rachel sleepy, but she had held up so far today. Still, Quinn knew that Rachel would feel bad for missing part of it.

Gently, Quinn stroked the hair back from Rachel's forehead, tucking it behind her ear. It was just a simple gesture but so intimate, and Quinn was glad that Santana and Brittany weren't around to see it. Brittany's giant smile, wanting to urge her on to just go for it. Santana's curious look that would turn into her patented bitch smirk whenever she figured it out. She loved her friends completely, but that didn't stop her from hating them both sometimes. She couldn't be interested in Rachel. She _couldn't_.

"Rachel," Quinn called softly, rubbing her upper arm, her shoulder. "Rachel, wake up. Pizza's here." Rachel stirred briefly but clutched the pillow tighter, a moan escaping her lips. It wasn't a good moan, which Quinn then had to chastise herself for wishing to hear Rachel's 'good moans'. It was a groan, a pained sound. A hurt sound. "Rachel," Quinn said, a little louder, a little more scared, a little more forcefully.

Another sound escaped Rachel this time, some cross between a groan and a choked cry before her eyes bolted open and she gasped. She raised up quickly, looking around in that bleary eyed disoriented state of the freshly woken. It was clear she had no idea where she was, and for that split second her eyes were wide and panicked. When her line of sight finally fell on Quinn, she threw her arms around the startled blonde's neck and started sobbing into her shoulder.

"Hey, hey," Quinn said, wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist and pulling her closer, tighter to her. She tried to shush the brunette with assurances that it was all a dream, that everything was okay, that she was safe and sound at Santana's house and they were watching movies.

"I- I dreamed-" Rachel started, violently shaking in Quinn's arms. They were the only words she was able to get out, though, before Santana and Brittany came bustling down the steps.

"Hey, bitches, the pizza's getting cold and-" Santana's words were stopped by a raised hand and a stern glare from Quinn who immediately wrapped her arms back around Rachel. Brittany and Santana sat staring at the scene as Quinn just held the tiny trembling brunette close and whispered phrases in her ear that she hoped to God she could back up. Things like "it'll be okay" and "I'm here" and "you're okay now".

After a few solid minutes of silence, Rachel finally peeled herself away from Quinn's now damp shoulder. Quinn reached up and wiped the tear tracks from her cheeks, lifting the sheepish brunette's face until she was looking into Rachel's chocolate brown irises. "How about we get some pizza now? Okay?"

Rachel nodded, smiling and embarrassed. When Quinn rose from the couch and offered Rachel her hand, she took it, melding herself into Quinn's side as they walked towards the stairs of the basement. Brittany and Santana, who had been watching the scene the entire time, gave Quinn a questioning look, but she just shot back a tired, sad smile.

Upstairs, Quinn said hello to Emilio and Tiffany as quickly and politely as she could before she was back into the kitchen to Rachel. She got the two of them plates and pizza, moving around the familiar kitchen while Rachel was never more than a couple of feet away from her. It was like she was a nervous child at a strange party and Quinn was the protective parent… and then Quinn was suddenly internally cringing at that analogy. She was protective of Rachel, but not parental. That was just… icky. It was cute, though, the way Rachel never wanted to be too far from Quinn. It was… nice.

Back downstairs with pizza in hand, Quinn exchanged more worried glances with Brittany and Santana. They wisely chose not to say anything about Rachel or Quinn, and Quinn found herself back to loving them again. Few people realized the importance of just letting things go sometimes.

Quinn set her plate down on the coffee table while she went to get bottles of water for herself and Rachel, then came back and joined Rachel on the couch. Rachel smiled her thanks but didn't say it aloud, and Quinn was again thankful.

Though the couch was big enough for all four of them if they wanted to squeeze in and definitely big enough for just Rachel and Quinn, Quinn still found herself sitting right next to Rachel, knees and elbows gently brushing against each other as they ate. It wasn't like she'd purposely sat that close to the brunette. Just, as they readjusted, as Quinn moved to get her water bottle off of the coffee table, as Rachel moved her leg, they found themselves magnetically drawn to one another. By the end of Jack Frost, their empty plates were on the table, Rachel's head was on Quinn's shoulder, and Quinn's arm was wrapped around Rachel's waist. She found herself absentmindedly playing with the belt loops on Rachel's jeans while they watched the movie and thinking that this might be one of her favorite holiday moments ever.

At some point, Quinn looked over at the clock on the wall and realized it was almost midnight. She knew if they were going to go jogging tomorrow, they should probably go to bed. Brittany was already asleep on top of Santana and Rachel was again passed out with her head in Quinn's lap while Quinn stroked fingers through her hair or drug nails lightly over her scalp. Quinn told herself that it was purely in an effort to keep her from having any more nightmares, and as long as she didn't question it too hard, she was okay with that excuse.

Once the current movie, Die Hard (because Santana wanted to see it, Brittany didn't care, Quinn had used up her veto already, and Rachel was curious about it), was rolling credits, Quinn looked over to Santana and said quietly, "I think it's time for bed."

"It's barely late," Santana said, also quietly as to try and not wake the blonde wrapped around her. "When did you get so old?"

"No, she's right," Brittany said sleepily, eyes peering up at Santana from where her head lay on her chest. "I still need to give you your reward." As an incentive, Brittany put her mouth over Santana's clothed breast and did some nuzzling, kissing thing that had Quinn feeling uncomfortable being in the same room as them.

"Okay! Enough of that!" Quinn called out loudly, starling Rachel into wakefulness. "Shit, sorry, Rach," Quinn said quietly to the brunette that was now sitting up sleepily beside her. "I just, umm… They were…" Rachel's gaze followed Quinn's own as Brittany was still playfully nuzzling Santana's breasts while Santana had her eyes closed and a blissful look on her face. Rachel turned back to Quinn with wide eyes and a blush to match Quinn's own. "Yeah. We should go. Like, right now."

Standing and pulling Rachel along with her, Quinn grabbed hers and Rachel's overnight bags and led her up the steps of the basement, hearing Santana's moan of pleasure as Quinn shut the door behind them. Still holding Rachel's hand, which was a stupid habit that Quinn desperately needed to break, she led them upstairs, showing Rachel the bathroom and their guest bedroom. She told Rachel that there were actually two guest bedrooms, but that neither one of them should have to suffer through having the one closest to Santana's bedroom. Instead, they would be sharing the further one. Only when they were actually in there with the door shut did Quinn realize that meant sharing a bed. Fuck.

"So, umm…" Quinn started off, staring at the bed. "I'll just uh… I can sleep on the floor. Yeah."

"Nonsense," Rachel said, now more awake. "It's a queen size bed. There's plenty of room for both of us." She was biting her lip, though, and looking at the bed like she was calculating sleeping area. Knowing Rachel, she actually might have been.

"I would really hate to hurt your wrists, though, by, like, rolling over in the middle of the night or something," Quinn said. "You're already injured enough as it is."

"No, it'll be fine," Rachel said. "I'm small. We're both skinny. There's plenty of room."

"It's okay, really," Quinn said. "They have a bunch of extra blankets and stuff. I'll just put some on the floor over here. It'll be like camping."

"No, Quinn," Rachel said, crossing her arms. "I won't feel comfortable taking the bed. If you insist on being stubborn, then I'm just going to take the other guest bedroom." She walked over to the door and opened it, looked out and saw a topless Brittany pushed up against a door and making out with Santana, and quickly slammed it again. "I can't go out there."

"Told you," Quinn said.

"Fine," Rachel huffed. "If you won't sleep on the bed, then neither will I." She reached for one of the pillows and dropped it down on the floor beside the bed. "We can both share the floor."

"Rachel, wait," Quinn said, walking over and grabbing her hands to stop her from stripping the blankets off the bed. "This is stupid. You're right. I'm sorry. There's plenty of room here. I was just trying to be… I don't know. Agreeable?"

"It _was_ very chivalrous," Rachel said. And that was odd. No one had ever called Quinn chivalrous before. It was yet another unexpectedly nice thing that came from being around Rachel. No, it didn't feel nice. It felt… right.

Rachel and Quinn took their overnight bags with them to the bathroom where they changed while facing away from each other, brushed their teeth, and finished all their other nighttime rituals. Rachel explained to Quinn that she had a much longer nighttime routine but she had truncated it into a more "travel-friendly" version. Quinn had nodded along while repeatedly reminding herself not to stare at Rachel's legs in her super-short sleep shorts.

Rachel texted her fathers goodnight as she had promised to do. The brunette had called them earlier in the night to tell them about her day so far, about the mall and going jogging tomorrow morning with Quinn, Brittany, and Santana. She had been honest with them, telling them about the women at the mall and how Santana had defended her. She didn't go into the details of Santana's embarrassment of the women; just that she had stood up for her.

They had then called Quinn later to get more information from her, and she had gone into detail about the incident. She then told them about Santana buying Rachel new clothes. She also told the Misters Berry about her Christmas present for Rachel, the reading she'd done, and the reasoning behind it. They thought it was a nice idea, but worried that she may not like it, telling her how Rachel had given away other pets, as they weren't 'perfect'. It was nearly identical to what Brittany had said that morning. Quinn could only trust the taller blonde's wisdom, and, yes, Quinn recognized that statement worried her, but Brittany knew people.

Rachel had never asked who kept calling Quinn throughout the day, and Quinn never told her. She wasn't sure if Rachel was just giving her the opportunity not to lie to her, or if she thought that it wasn't any of her business. Either way, she was thankful she didn't have to lie.

Back in the bedroom, Quinn watched as Rachel got into bed, perhaps a little too closely. The shorts she wore were absurdly short, and Rachel's tanned, toned thighs enticed Quinn to thoughts she knew she shouldn't be having. Thankfully Rachel didn't catch her staring. As she flipped off the light and made her way over to the edge of the bed guided only by the winter moonlight drifting in through the window, she wondered if Rachel was as nervous as she was.

Which was stupid.

Rachel was her friend. Her _straight_ friend. She'd only dated Finn, Puck, and Jesse as far as she knew, and she'd never so much as talked about liking another girl before. Whatever looks she might have given Quinn were out of… hero worship or something. They weren't out of any interest. That was just Quinn's perverse thoughts being reflected onto how she saw Rachel, and she needed to stop it. In fact, it was ignorant and close-minded to even think that just because her fathers were gay meant that she might be gay, too. Brittany's parents weren't gay. Neither were Santana's. And her own parents- no. Her own parents didn't factor into this because Quinn was most definitely not gay.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked, reaching over and taking her hand under the blankets in the dark. "I just… I just wanted to say thanks. For inviting me. I've never had a sleepover before. This has been… fun."

"I'm glad you came," Quinn said, squeezing her hand. Quinn looked over at the digital clock that read 12:47am. "I know you don't celebrate it, but… Merry Christmas Eve, Rachel."

"Merry Christmas Eve."


	16. Chapter 16: Running

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Hope you're enjoying it so far. This chapter gets me to over 100k words which is awesome as far as milestones go. I have no idea how long this story will end up being, as this is still the first week story-wise. The first week is probably the hardest, though, when something like this happens, so I imagine time will start flowing somewhat quicker after the next chapter or two.**

**I know nothing about jogging or running programs. I made up something that sounded really difficult. To my metric-using readers, a mile is about 1600m.**

**Again, thanks for reading. Please leave me a review if you're feeling like it. They keep me motivated and churning out chapters.**

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Quinn woke up to the sound of crying, only realizing once she was more awake that it wasn't Rachel's but her own. The nightmare had been so realistic, maybe because it was partially a memory. Rachel was in the bathtub again, white dress stained with blood. Quinn was holding her arms up, trying to stop the bleeding, but there was just too much blood. Her face kept getting paler and paler as Quinn looked down into those slowly closing chocolate eyes. She could still hear the words, the _last_ words, leaving Rachel's lips. "This is your fault." And "Why didn't you save me?"

Quinn shook her head to try and clear the remnants of the dream. A beam of moonlight just barely illuminated the room so that Quinn could see Rachel was still sleeping. The soft snores that permeated the room only reinforced it. It was a cute snore, really. Then again, just about everything about Rachel was starting to be cute to Quinn. The way she bit her lip when she was shy or nervous or unsure. The way she rambled when she forgot that she was supposed to be depressed that reminded Quinn so much of the way she used to be. The way she refused to let Quinn open her bottle of water, assuring Quinn that she was perfectly capable of doing it with one hand. The way she picked apart her pizza with a fork, toppings then bread then crust. And it was annoying the fuck out of Quinn.

Rachel Berry wasn't cute. Children were cute. Animals were cute. Sam was cute. Rachel was… new. That was it. And not all that bad. Now that Quinn wasn't constantly trying to figure out ways to antagonize the brunette, she was actually getting to know her, and it was only the fact that everything was new about Rachel Berry that had Quinn intrigued. She wasn't interested in Rachel. Well, okay, she was, but only as her new friend. As someone trying to help Rachel get better. Nothing more.

Quinn repeated that phrase like a mantra, '_nothing more, nothing more, nothing more_' as she slipped out of bed, shivering against the cold. She opened the door to their room and stepped outside, letting the door close with a soft click. There was a banister in part of the hallway that looked out over the living room, so she sat down in front of it, looking down over the darkened room. Santana's house was amazing, though not as big as the Fabray house. It was more inviting, though. A home, rather than a house. Somewhere they were all welcome.

Thoughts, memories filtered back to her of the first time she'd taken Santana and Brittany to her house for a sleepover early in their freshman year. She'd had to take down most of the pictures that her in them as so many were taken back in her Lucy days. Her parents had been stiff until sufficiently plied with alcohol. Her mom had warmed up to them somewhat, especially Brittany. Her dad had… leered… after a few too many and excused himself to go watch television in his office, letting the three of them have the den to themselves. It wasn't exactly the best of times, and Quinn generally found reasons not to have them over after that.

Now with her mother an almost completely different person and her father gone, she wondered if she should consider having them over again. Except Quinn would have to invite Rachel, too, and she wasn't sure her mom was ready to meet her. Judy Fabray was a Fabray after all. She had never defended the Berrys against Russell's normal tirades against them. It was possible she held the same opinions. That she thought they were an 'abomination against God' and 'sinners' and 'going to hell' the same as Russell had often said. And God forbid her mom ever find out about any of the perverse thoughts Quinn was constantly fighting against.

The door to Santana's bedroom opened up and a sleepy looking Santana walked out, stumbling her way to the bathroom. After a couple of minutes, a toilet flush, and the sound of the sink running, she stumbled back out and over to Quinn, sitting down beside her. She worked her legs through the railings the same as Quinn had and let her feet dangle over the balcony of the living room. "Aren't you ever worried your legs are going to get stuck in there?" Santana asked while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, though considering she was doing the same thing, it was kind of hypocritical.

"When I was pregnant and my feet and legs swelled up," Quinn said. "Other than that, no. Why are you up?"

"You just heard me pee," Santana said. "It should be obvious, even for you."

"Sorry. Why are you _still_ up?" Quinn tried again. It was always like this, antagonistic even when getting along. Their friendship was a unique one.

"I knew the sound of you thinking so hard out here was going to keep me awake," Santana said. "Figured I had to either talk you down or beat you unconscious before I could get back to sleep. I went with option A." She paused. "For now." They sat there in silence for a minute, staring down into the darkness before Santana finally turned to look at Quinn. "What's up, Cap?"

"I was thinking about jogging tomorrow," Quinn started off slowly, feeling out the developing plan in her head. "With Rachel." She noticed Santana look over at this. "I was thinking we could run a Step Program with her."

"A Three Step should be fine," Santana said, putting her head down against the bars of the banister. Brittany must have tired her out. "She works out in the mornings on that elliptical thing, right? She should be fine with that."

"I was actually thinking of something higher."

"A Five Step?" Santana asked, raising her head to again look at her. Quinn didn't meet her gaze. "I'm not sure Berry could do a Five-"

"A Seven, actually."

There was silence. She could feel the stare burning into the side of her head now. "No."

Quinn turned to her, arching an eyebrow. "No?"

Santana sighed, resigned, and faced away from Quinn. "Not 'no', obviously," she said reluctantly. "You're the captain. You say Seven, we do Seven. But she's never going to make it. She'll give up. Hell, I might not make it. We haven't done a Seven Step since weeding out the newcomers in tryouts. And it's fucking Christmas Eve, Quinn. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Contrary to what you believe, San," Quinn said, bumping her shoulder against her brooding friend, "not everything is about you. And Rachel will make it. You just have to… motivate her."

"And by motivate, you mean…?" Santana let the question hang there. Quinn knew she needed to hear her say the words. And as much as she hated to, Quinn did it.

"I mean, treat her like you treat the Cheerios." For a second, she thought Santana was going to say no again, was going to fight her about this. When she said nothing, Quinn asked, "What do you need to do this?"

"Limits," Santana said quietly.

"Don't say anything about me," Quinn said. Looking over to Santana's room, she added, "Or Brittany. Everything else is on the table. Her dads, Jesse, Finn, cheating with Puck. Shelby. Whatever you need."

"Even her suicide attempt?"

"Especially that," Quinn said, hating herself for what was going to happen. "But not until the last run mile." Quinn felt like that one might break her, and she was already giving herself a mental reminder to pack an extra bottle of water and Rachel's antianxiety pills. Mentioning the pills and Rachel's dads reminded her. "Oh, by the way, Rachel's dad said if you or Brittany ever need to talk about anything, that they were there for you guys."

"What would we need to talk to them about?"

"Oh, I don't know," Quinn said, feigning ignorance. "Whatever two older gay role-model types that live in a closed-minded community like Lima might want to talk about. Fashion or interior decorating, I'm sure."

Santana was silent for a moment. "Well, damn. That's… decent… of them."

"Yeah," Quinn acknowledged. She left out the part where Leroy had basically called her a lesbian, too. "Decent." After another silent minute, Quinn asked, "Anything else?" and they both knew they were going back to the previous topic. The run and Rachel.

"An explanation would be nice," Santana said. "I mean, did she steal your side of the bed, or is this some kind of revenge thing for her getting Finn or…?"

"No," Quinn said. "At the mall today, she pushed Brittany-"

"And this is, what? Some kind of punishment for that?

"No! God, stop interrupting," Quinn said, voice rising into an angry whisper. After a moment of getting her thoughts back in order, she said, "She was angry. Like, rage-bubbling-below-the-surface-waiting-to-blow-up angry. It's kind of how I was-"

"Was?"

"-during the pregnancy," Quinn finished, shooting a smirking Santana a glare. "Yes, was! And this wasn't the first time Rachel's had these sudden bursts of anger. I think she's really angry and she doesn't know how to deal."

They both stared forward, contemplative. "What's she so angry about?"

"Being alive, maybe?" Quinn said, phrasing it like a question, a guess. Rachel had said as much to her in the hospital, that she wasn't glad she was alive, but that was private between them. She didn't want to share Rachel's secrets, but Santana needed to know for Quinn's plan to work.

"I…" Santana started. "I thought she'd be, like, happy, or something. Have some huge hero boner for you. I thought that's why you two were getting along so well. She was all 'OMG, I love Quinn for saving me' and you, loving the hero worship and people looking up to you, let her."

"I think she's still doing all that, too," Quinn said. Santana smirked while Quinn blushed, suddenly realizing what she had said. "I mean, not the way you put it. Obviously. Just that she's still thankful sometimes, but she's also angry and depressed and everything else, too. I think hating you while we run will give her an outlet so maybe she can get some of the anger out."

"So you _do_ want her to hate me?" Santana asked, nice enough to phrase it like a question even though they both knew the answer.

"Out of the three of us, you're the one that can take it," Quinn said, wrapping her arm around Santana's shoulders and pulling her closer. Neither of them were often affectionate, but here, in the darkness of the house, it seemed like it was okay. "I know you're trying to make it up to her. We both are. But she trusts me, and I told her I wouldn't lie to her, and Brittany-"

"About anything?" Santana asked, moving back to look at her. "You actually told her you wouldn't lie to her anymore about anything?"

"Well, yeah," Quinn said, confused by the question, by Santana's sudden interest. "In the hospital, she said she needed someone she could talk to that she could be honest with, and I told her she could do that with me. That, from now on, I would always be honest with her. That's why we've been closer. Not the 'hero worship' thing." Santana was just staring at her, so Quinn added, "She didn't have anyone. She needed me."

"So…" Santana was again smirking. Damn her and her devious smirk. It was just never a good thing. "The girl that you 'hate'," she said, making air quotes, "gets all the openness and honesty from you, but when your 'boyfriend'," again with the air quotes, "wants the same thing, you break up with him? That sound right to you, Q?"

Shit. Apparently not thinking about Sam had caused her to forget about that. Of course Santana was a damned bull dog and wouldn't forget it. "It's not the same," Quinn said only slightly angry. "Sam was digging for information about me. Trying to get into my business-"

"Because he's your boyfriend."

"-while Rachel just wanted someone to be honest with her, and yes, I know he's my boyfriend, Santana!" Quinn said. They almost never used full names unless one of them was mad at the other.

Santana wisely held up both hands, surrendering. "Sorry, bitch. Damn."

Quinn sighed a frustrated sigh and smoothed her hand through her hair. "It's fine. So, as I was saying, if Rachel hates you during the run, it might let her get some of the aggression out. I can't do that to her anymore and Brittany… Brittany never would. So that leaves you. And I think, once it's over, that we can maybe explain what we were doing, then she won't hate you the rest of the time. Just when we go running."

"Go running?" Santana asked. "You make it sound like…" but Quinn's turning away answered her unasked question. "Tomorrow's not a one-time deal, is it? Tomorrow's just going to be the first time. Ugh! How often were you thinking?"

"Days we don't have Cheerios practice."

"What the fuck, Quinn!" Santana whisper-yelled. "Doing Seven Steps every other day? Are you trying to kill me?"

"No," Quinn said, just as angrily. "I'm trying to make sure Rachel doesn't kill herself!" This took all the fight out of Santana. Her shoulders visibly slumped, and Quinn felt like a bitch for saying that. It was true, though. She had to help Rachel. Saving her life wasn't just about making sure she didn't bleed to death. It was about making sure she still wanted to live. "Come on, San. I can't do this without you. I could run with her, but I can't push her like you can. No one could. I need you. Rachel needs you."

"You suck, Fabray," Santana said, standing up. "I'll help you because I love you and all, but, seriously? I hate you sometimes."

Quinn followed, removing her legs from between the railings of the banister and standing up. "Sometimes, I hate me, too." Santana again stared, unsure of what to say to that. Quinn didn't even know why she had said it besides she had been thinking it and because it was the truth. "Oh, one more thing," she added. "You have to tell Brittany about all this and that she can't interfere."

"Ugh!" Santana groaned out in frustration. They both knew Brittany would be upset about them pushing Rachel. "Fuck you, Q."

"Sorry, not interested," Quinn said, smiling and turning to walk away. "You're not my type."

"Little, soft, dark skin, brunette," Santana said. "I think I'm _exactly_ your type."

Quinn turned around, facing a grinning Santana. "Sam… Sam doesn't look anything like that." And she saw it, the way Santana's face lit up. Fuck that fucking little stutter of insecurity in her voice. She may as well have gotten a giant rainbow tattooed on her forehead. Santana knew now. She'd just told her by that fucking waver in the way she'd denied it. _Fuck_!

This time it was Santana who turned to walk away, smiling the entire time. "No. No, he doesn't."

* * *

The alarm blared at six thirty just as Quinn had set it the night before, and she blindly reached over, silencing it. With a soft, sleepy sound, Rachel thanked her and cuddled back into Quinn's chest, cheek pressed into her breasts. Their legs were tangled against each other's while Quinn's arm lay wrapped around the girl's waist, hand in the back of her sleep shorts on the smooth skin of her butt. She lay there feeling the softness as she lazily drug her fingertips back and forth causing Rachel to make little mewing sounds in her sleep. It was still peaceful and quiet, and she didn't want anything to interrupt their first morning waking up together. Quinn wished all her mornings could start out like this, wrapped in the feel, the smell of Rachel, Rachel's head on her chest, Quinn's hand on… wait. Where was her hand again?

Quinn suddenly pushed herself out from under Rachel, startling the both of them into wakefulness as Quinn slid off of the bed, knocking her elbow into the nightstand with a loud bang, and falling onto the floor with a "Whoa! OW! SHIT!"

"Quinn!" Rachel yelped, rushing over on hands and knees to peer over the side of the bed. Quinn looked up at her from where she lay on the other side of the bed with a wide-eyed startled expression that matched Rachel's. "Quinn, are you okay?! Are you hurt? Do we need to call someone? Did you hit your head? Oh my God, you hit your head, didn't you? Answer me, Quinn!"

"What the _fuck_ is going on in here?!" Santana came in yelling and half asleep. "Rachel? Where's Quinn?"

"I'm here," Quinn said, raising a hand to wave from where she was laying on the floor. Santana came around the bed to see an embarrassed looking, red-faced Quinn laying there. "Just admiring the underside of the bed. Nice construction work, really."

Santana closed her eyes, shook her head, and walked out of the room, cursing under her breath in Spanish the entire time. After another minute in which Rachel was still staring down at Quinn, and Quinn was doing her best to forget how they had woken up, she finally got up.

In embarrassed silence, Quinn walked over to the dresser and took the extra set of running clothes that Santana had lent her the night before. She was almost to the door when she looked over and saw Rachel, now standing with a hand on her butt. She looked confused.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked, nervously. "Umm… did you… I mean, when we were sleeping, did you have your hand-"

"No," Quinn said too quickly, forcefully, hoping to shut the conversation down. God, wasn't she red enough already?

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked. "Because I seem to remember-"

"Well, I didn't."

"Oh," Rachel said. Again Quinn started to walk out the door, and again Rachel stopped her. "Quinn?" She turned to look at the brunette, who was also blushing slightly. "You make a really nice pillow."

"I-uh-um…" Quinn was able to say, elegantly, she might add, before turning on her heel and marching out the door and into the bathroom.

Once barricaded inside the bathroom, she splashed water on her face and tried to forget how this morning started. It was Christmas Eve, it was her favorite time of year, she had awesome presents waiting at her house for Sam and Rachel, and she wasn't going to let anything ruin her morning.

Or so she thought, until she opened the door and came face to face with a scowling Brittany. A scowling Brittany who pushed her back into the bathroom and closed the door. "Don't worry," Brittany said in the angriest voice Quinn had ever heard her use. "I know Rachel can't be by herself, not really. Santana's in there with her while they change."

Quinn started to say something, thanks, maybe, but Brittany interrupted her. "No. You don't get to talk. I'm mad at you. You're going to be mean to Rachel, and worse, you're making San do it for you. That's really mean even for you, Quinn. If you want to be mean to Rachel and see her cry again, you should just do it yourself. You shouldn't involve us. Rachel is all broken and stuff, and you're going to have San make fun of her to, what? Get her to run more? That's stupid. It's really stupid, and we shouldn't do it."

Quinn was quiet for a moment. "Are you done?" Brittany blew an angry breath out of her nose but nodded. "Good. Did Santana even explain why we're doing what we're doing this morning?" Another angry nod. "Good. Then tell me, Britts, am I wrong? You said you read people. You've been around Rachel almost twenty-four hours now. Tell me she's not angry. Like, deep-down angry." Quinn waited, but Brittany said nothing. "Okay, then tell me you have a better idea to help her get all that anger out. Please." Again, Brittany was silent. "If her hands and wrists weren't messed up, I'd take her boxing and let her hit me, but that's not an option. She used to use the elliptical like Coach Sue has every morning, so I know she can run. And Santana is the best person for this. If I try to yell at her, it will just hurt her. If you try, sweetie, you'll be apologizing before you can even get it out of your mouth. Santana does it better, and we both know that."

"But-"

"Britts," Quinn said, taking hold of her hands. "It's just like Cheerios. We all have our parts to do. Santana's the motivator, and you're the one that makes sure everyone is still happy and having fun. And I… I have to make the really shitty decisions like this one. But at the end of training camp, everyone's on the same team. We're a family."

"Yeah, but… but some of the girls don't make it," Brittany said. "Because they can't keep up."

"We're not 'cutting' Rachel," Quinn said. "If she can't keep up, like, if she's actually physically unable, then we stop. We all know how far someone can be pushed. You, best of all, Britts. You know what the body can and can't do. If you say stop, we're done. I promise."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what."

"Okay, I guess," Brittany said. "But can I at least talk to her while we run?"

"No, Britts," Quinn said, hating how unhappy she was making the taller blonde. "You know the rules. First time run, you can't talk to her. Santana has to be in charge of this or else Rachel won't listen to her. If you smile at her, if you tell her that San doesn't really mean it, you'll make it okay for her to stop running. And she has to run. She has to run until she hates Santana."

"But I don't want her to hate Santana," Brittany said sadly.

"I know, Britts," Quinn said, pulling the girl into a hug. "I don't either. That's why, when we get back, Rachel can have the first shower." Brittany looked confused, looking down at Quinn. "She can't be alone by herself, but she's going to still be upset. A shower will calm her down. And while she's showering, you can stay in here with her and tell her stories about you and San. No sex stuff, Britts. Just about you two being friends or something. It's your job to make sure she doesn't hate Santana all the time. It's okay while we're running, but not the rest of the time. Can you do that for me, Britts? Can you do that for Rachel?"

"Yeah…" Brittany said after a moment or two of nervously biting her lip. She looked to be in thought, so Quinn hugged her again, then moved past her and opened the bathroom door. "I still don't like this plan, Q."

"I know," Quinn said. "I don't either, but I think it needs to be done. Strong body,…"

"Strong mind," Brittany finished. "I know. I just don't like it." They stood there staring at each other for a moment before Brittany said, "That's all, Quinn. I have to pee now."

"Oh, right, sorry," Quinn said, walking out and shutting the door behind her. She made her way back to her and Rachel's room finding Santana and Rachel both laying the wrong way across the bed, clothed in warm looking running clothes. Rachel lay curled on her side, facing Santana and talking about something while Santana had her forearm over her eyes and looked asleep.

"Quinn!" Rachel said, popping out of bed and rushing over. "I was telling Santana about Wicked while we were waiting for you and Brittany to finish talking about my birthday present." Quinn looked behind Rachel to Santana who shrugged with a 'what the fuck was I supposed to tell her' expression. "I was explaining that you and I were like Elphaba and Galinda and Finn was like Fiyero, and she asked who she would be, and I said that maybe she could be Nessarose since we kind of look alike a little bit with the dark hair and skin, but that she was in a wheelchair, and Santana didn't want to be in a wheelchair which I think has something to do with her disliking Artie, but I told her that it was actually better that she was Nessarose because then Brittany could be Boq, but now that I think about that's probably not a happy ending for them or for us, really. Hmmm… I may need to rethink this Wicked to real-life comparison. Anyway, so I was telling her about the show and-"

"Whoa, Rachel. Take a breath. Jesus," Quinn said. Turning to Santana, she asked, "So your mom finally got the espresso machine working?"

To which Santana just said, "Nope. That's all her."

Quinn smiled and grabbed Rachel's hands, asking quietly, "Do you talk a lot when you're nervous?" Rachel bit her lip and looked down but nodded. "You must be nervous all the time, then, huh?"

Rachel looked back up, offended, reached out, and slapped Quinn hard on the arm. "Quinn!" She pouted, which caused Quinn to giggle, but Santana curiously watching them stopped her. "I resent that. I just… this is only the second time we've all hung out in public and only the third time for you and I and neither time has gone as well as I could have hoped. I'm just nervous that someone will see us."

By this point, Brittany had wandered in with a paper plate of muffins and four bottles of water, two tucked under her arms and two in the hand that wasn't holding the muffins. "I don't care if people see us, Rachel," Quinn said. "You're my friend, and if they don't like that, I don't really care."

"Muh nuffer," Brittany said with her mouth full of muffin from beside Santana which they guessed meant 'me neither'.

"Yeah, fuck those putas, Berry," Santana said. "If they give us any trouble, I'm not afraid to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on their asses."

Rachel turned to Santana suddenly, and said, "That's something I've been meaning to ask. You keep saying you're from Lima Heights Adjacent-"

"Here we go," Quinn said, covering her eyes.

"-but this house is really nice and nowhere near Lima Heights Adjacent so that doesn't really… make… sense…?" Rachel stuttered out the last part, looking over at Quinn who was looking weary of the conversation already. "What?"

"Here's the thing, Berry," Santana said, standing from the bed and getting in Rachel's personal space. Quinn stood close behind, ready to interrupt, but Santana was still smiling, so she wasn't completely worried. Just ready. "Growing up, my parents worked a lot, like all the time, and me and my brother and sister stayed with mi abuela most of the time. She lives in Lima Heights Adjacent, and, how would you say it? She isn't a very nice woman. She's hard, and she raised us on insults and taught us to be hard and to take care of our own. And, lucky for you, you're one of my own now, which is why I'm smiling instead of threatening and/or beating you for doubting my street cred. Plus, I just happen to think it's adorable how Quinn is being all 'guard dog' right now."

"Totally cute," Brittany said, still picking at her muffin from the bed.

"So, yeah, I can claim Lima Heights Adjacent as much as I want because most of my time has been spent there," Santana said. "I have a lot of friends still in that neighborhood that go to Perry High School because they can't afford to drive out here to William McKinley. They'd do anything for me, and I'd do anything for them, and by anything, I mean legal, illegal, whatever. So be thankful that we're now friends, and that I never _really_ hated you, because if I did, you might not still be here. Me entiendes?

"Si," Rachel said. "I mean, yes. Sorry. I was just curious."

"It's cool," Santana said. "I don't have a problem with you knowing. These bitches know already. We share stuff now, Berry. You have a question, just ask. But not, y'know, all the time, because then I really might have to hurt you."

"Would one question per day be okay?" Rachel asked. Quinn thought she was joking for a second, but moving around to look at her, she was completely serious. Of course she was.

Santana sighed. "God, why can't you just…" Santana started to say, but the look on Rachel's face stopped her. "You know what? Fine. One question per day." Rachel was about to speak again, but Santana stopped her. "And yes, that was your question for today. You can text me a new one tomorrow."

"Oh, can I play, too?" Brittany asked, to which Rachel said 'yes' and they hugged, and then Rachel turned to hug a reluctant Santana who pushed her back into Brittany reminding Rachel that she was having her hugs outsourced to Brittany. Rachel then moved over to hug Quinn, even though she had nothing to do with this whole thing, but, sure, why not hug Rachel? Wasn't like she was groping her ass or anything not an hour ago. Plus hugging Rachel felt right even while feeling really wrong. Quinn was just going to put all that aside for the moment because friends hugged. Clearly Rachel hugging Santana and Brittany, or really just Brittany, proved that.

After the 'hug-a-thon', Santana's words not Quinn's, which then caused Brittany to say they should have hug-a-thons rather than telethons because 'people would raise so much more money because no one wants to hug a telephone'… after that, they were finally out the door and in Santana's car, headed to the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Center park, though most people just called it Center Park. It was actually on the southern side of the town, but it was like the town had collectively come together and refused to call it South Park. It was where they usually went to go jogging since it had markers every quarter mile measured out around the lake. On the way there, they ate their muffins for energy, and Brittany talked about how excited she was for Ms. Lopez's sopapillas, among other things.

At the starting area of their run, while they were stretching in pairs of Brittany with Rachel and Santana with Quinn, Quinn explained how they would run. "Okay, Santana is going to be our run leader. She'll set the pace. What we're doing is called Steps, because it alternates," she said, watching her breath blow away in the early morning air. "Step one, step two, step one, step two. Step one is, you jog at a slower pace for a mile. Then, step two, you run a mile. It's simple, really. The difficult part comes in keeping your pace up while running for the entire mile. Turning to Rachel, she asked, "Are you sure you're up for this?" And she so wanted her to say no, that she didn't want to jog, that she wanted to be taken home. She reached down and felt the pill bottle in the hoodie of her pocket. She had stuffed cotton balls in it before they left to dampen the sound so Rachel wouldn't hear it and think Quinn was expecting her to break down.

"No, yeah, let's do this," Rachel said, excited to go running with them.

"Wait, Rachel," Brittany said. "You're not properly stretched out yet." With a hand on her good hand, she brought Rachel back over to her. "People think running is about just the legs. It's not. It's also about the back, the arms, the neck. Every time your foot hits the ground it sends shocks up through your body so your whole body needs to be loose to run well." While she was talking, she continued stretching Rachel out; rolling her neck, flexing her arms behind her back, moving her legs up and down. At one point, Brittany had Rachel's arms stretched behind her and a knee in her back, stretching out her shoulders. It also put her breasts prominently on display, and Quinn turned away blushing.

"So, did you want Brittany to help her stretch instead of you so you didn't have to touch her," Santana asked quietly, "or so you could sit back and watch her?"

To which Quinn responded with a "Fuck you" and let her own leg fall back to the ground.

After they were all stretched out and warmed up, they started on the first mile, jogging slowly. Everything was going fine, and Santana even had to remind Rachel to slow down and save her energy for the next mile. Rachel just seemed excited to show them what she could do, and even laughed at how slow of a jogging pace they were going. Quinn didn't say a word as Rachel rambled while they jogged. She'd promised herself she wouldn't talk to the girl until this was done or until she broke, whichever came first.

They reached the first mile marker, and suddenly they were running all out. She knew Rachel was struggling to keep up with the way her talking suddenly petered out, but Quinn didn't allow herself to glance over. She knew if she cared too much she couldn't do what needed to be done. 'Strong body, strong mind' she reminded herself. It was something Coach Sue stamped into them every practice, every day. It was actually a quote from Thomas Jefferson, 'A strong body makes the mind strong', just condensed into Sue Sylvester form. It didn't matter where it came from, though. It felt true.

Quinn listened to the smack, smack, smack of her sneakers hitting the pavement of the trail that ran alongside the lake. They passed few joggers out, even though it was premium jogging time and weather. Maybe being Christmas Eve had something to do with it. Maybe Quinn really was crazy. If so, she was only crazy for Rachel… okay, that came out wrong. She meant, for Rachel's sake. She was only doing the craziness for Rachel's sake. That's better.

She knew the pace Santana was setting by being slightly in front of all of them was for Rachel. It wasn't the pace that she, Brittany, and Santana could have run, but they were training nearly every other day in Cheerios. Rachel, while not out of shape, couldn't compete with them. Quinn silently thanked Santana for it.

After the first running mile, they were again jogging. They were all sweating and panting, and it was nice going at such a slower jogging pace. This time, Rachel didn't say anything about the pace, but she did go back to talking, though it was slower and less lively. She hadn't really heard Rachel talk this much since before everything. It was like Rachel couldn't deal with them not talking, and she had to fill the silence. It was kind of nice hearing her ramble on. Quinn wasn't even annoyed by it anymore. Maybe she had just missed it.

As they were finishing the second jogging mile, Rachel started slowing down, saying, "Wow, that was fun, real-"

"We're not done yet, Berry," Santana called back.

And then they were running again, the smack, smack, smack, smack of their feet on the pavement. And Rachel was doing really well, huffing and puffing beside them. Quinn wanted her to make it. She wanted to be wrong in thinking that Rachel would break. Looking over, though, she was able to guess everything passing through Rachel's mind by the look on her face. The worry that she wouldn't make it, that they'd leave her behind, that she wasn't good enough to keep up with them. That she couldn't keep up with them physically or mentally or socially. Quinn needed Rachel to keep up, to know that if she could accomplish this, then she could go back to school or face down the people mocking her. She needed Rachel to be tough, to be strong.

After another minute, Rachel started to slow down, and Quinn reached out to tap Santana on the arm. Santana slowed her pace, getting beside Rachel while Brittany and Quinn stayed in front where Rachel couldn't see their faces. "Come on, Berry," Santana yelled between breaths, and Quinn was again amazed by Santana's lung power. She could have given Rachel a run for her money. "You're not quitting on us already, are you?"

"I can't… I can't do this," Rachel huffed out. "It's too… too hard."

Santana got even louder. "You're not giving up, Berry! Move those legs, move that ass. Is this what they teach you in all those dance classes? All those vocal classes? That it's okay to give up? Because we'll leave your ass out here! Move it, bitch! MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE IT!"

"Qui-inn," Quinn heard Rachel whining from behind her, but she ignored it. She had to. "I can't do… do this."

"Don't talk to Quinn!" Santana yelled. "This isn't about her! This is about you! You want someone to talk to, talk to me! You want someone to look at, look at me! Come on, quitter! Keep moving!"

And so it went for the rest of the mile. Every time Rachel would start to slow down, start to drag, Santana would be right beside her, yelling at her.

"Is this why you and Finn didn't work out? Because you're a quitter?"

"Must be why Shelby didn't want you, either."

"What would your dads think of their little quitter princess right now?"

"Maybe if you hadn't been such a quitter, Jesse wouldn't have turned on you."

As they finished the second running mile, they started on the third jogging mile, and all the insults stopped. They had moved down to an even slower jogging pace than before, giving Rachel a chance to rest up. Quinn made the mistake of looking behind her at one point and saw tears running down Rachel's cheeks, and it broke her heart seeing it. Knowing she put them there yet again. She hated herself so much sometimes, but she really did feel it was for Rachel's own good.

As they finished the third jogging mile and transitioned into the last running mile, Rachel didn't even act like they were finished as she had previously. She also did her best to keep up with them again, but after about a half mile she started going slower again, and Santana was again back beside her.

"Come on, Berry! Don't give up, you can do this! This is nothing! You're tougher than this! You're better than this!"

When that didn't work, Santana went back to cruel. It was her specialty, after all. And, whatever. Quinn may have hated herself. She may have hated Santana in those moments. Still, it was getting the job done. Rachel was keeping up with them.

"Maybe you deserve all those names, all those slushees, quitter."

"I get why you did it, quitter. Why you went for the knife. If I were as weak as you, I would have done it, too."

"You're probably wishing now that it would have worked, huh, quitter?"

Every single time Rachel started to falter, Santana was there with another horrible thing. About the suicide. About being replaced by Beth. About her and Finn breaking up. And every time, Rachel picked herself back up and started running harder and faster.

At the end of the last running mile, they transitioned into a fast walk. Brittany and Quinn found their spots beside Rachel and Santana respectively. Santana started to put her arm around Rachel and say, "Wow, great job, Berry," but was pushed off by Rachel.

"Fuck you, Santana!" Rachel screamed at her. Tears were pouring down her face mixing in with the mass amount of sweat that was rolling off her. They were all tired and sweaty, but Rachel looked the worst. "Just… fuck all of you!" And she kept on power walking along the lake, headed back towards the parking lot.

"Stay back, guys," Quinn said, and rushed to catch up with Rachel, muscles in her legs protesting. "Rachel," she said, pulling out a bottle of water. She didn't want to go for the pills yet. "Here, drink this."

"When I said, 'fuck all of you', I meant you, too, Quinn," Rachel said angrily, letting the bottle hang there in Quinn's hand as they walked. She knew if Rachel was capable of running away from her, she would have done it. "I knew it. I knew you three hated me. I should have seen this coming. At least it wasn't in front of the school, so that was a nice touch."

"We don't hate you, Rachel," Quinn said.

"Maybe you didn't hear any of the things Santana was saying to me, then," Rachel said.

"Good, yes, be mad at Santana, that's okay," Quinn said, "but Brittany and I-"

"You let it happen!" Rachel screamed. "You're supposed to be my friend and you let it happen!" This time she pushed her, and Quinn stumbled over her feet and tripped, falling to the pavement on her butt. "I'm done with you!"

And just like that, Quinn was back there in the choir room a year ago, hearing Finn yell the same words at her. "I'm done with you! I'm done with- with all of you!" The look of hurt on his face, the accusation hanging there in the air. It had been all Rachel's fault, and yet Quinn couldn't find it in herself to blame her. Every word she'd said to Rachel was true. She wasn't mad at her. She only did what Quinn was too afraid to do… tell the truth.

Quinn reached down to where her baby should have been, but there was only a damp sweatshirt. How could she forget that, even for a second? She wasn't there in the choir room. She was on her ass on the track around the lake at the park, and Rachel was walking away from her. Brittany and Santana were walking over, but Quinn held out a hand, keeping them at bay. She would fix this herself.

Quinn got off the ground, gingerly holding her right hip. She could already feel the oncoming bruise that would be forming. With a jog, she caught up to Rachel who was still walking quickly and matched her pace. After a few moments of silence, Quinn asked, "Are you mad?" Stupid question, sure, but she needed Rachel to talk.

Silence.

"Good. Be mad. Be angry. Yell and scream at me, but let's leave it all out here on the track."

When Rachel didn't respond, Quinn started again. "Do you know why I let Santana say all those things?" Again, no response. "Because I told her to say them." This time Rachel actually stopped and looked up at her, hurt, angry, sad, all at once. "You're so angry, Rachel, and I don't mean right now. You keep lashing out, yelling at your dads, or me, or pushing Brittany. I thought…" Quinn sighed. "I thought that if I gave you someone to hate, if I got Santana to push you, you could get it all out out here. That this could be your safe place to be angry, to hate, and then you wouldn't have as much inside anymore. It was stupid, and I'm sorry. I didn't think about you blaming Brittany and I for letting it happen. So, okay, be mad at me, but please don't take it out on Brittany. She's already mad at me for getting Santana to do this. That was the conversation this morning. Not about your present."

"You got her to say all that stuff to me?" Rachel asked, though it looked like the anger was draining out of her. "You told her it was… that it was okay to talk about… about my suicide attempt?"

"Yes," Quinn said, hanging her head. "I know this isn't going to help, but it's no worse than what you'll probably hear going back to school. I wanted you to build up kind of an immunity to it. Like, if it came from someone that you didn't hate as much, maybe that would make it easier to hear. Then, when you inevitably heard the same things at school, it wouldn't bother you as much."

"Why Santana?" Rachel asked. "Why not you or Brittany?"

"Can you really imagine Brittany saying any of that?" Quinn asked.

"No," Rachel conceded. "But you could."

And, okay, that hurt, but she was right. She could have said all of what Santana said and worse. Quinn was far better at it, and both Cheerios knew it. "But I couldn't say it to you," Quinn said finally. "I promised I'd be honest with you. If I called you a quitter or a loser or some other horrible thing, then I wouldn't be honest. I don't think you're any or those things, Rach."

"Oh," Rachel said. After a long silent minute of Rachel staring out over the lake while Quinn just stared at her, she finally said, "It still hurt."

"I know," Quinn said, wrapping an arm around Rachel's shoulders and pulling her into a side hug. She let herself relish the contact as Rachel sighed into the comfort. After a few moments, though, she pulled back. "Now, please, drink the damn water so I'll feel better, okay?"

"Okay," Rachel said, taking the water bottle from her. Then something seemed to occur to her. "Did you bring my pills?"

"I did," Quinn said, taking the bottle out of her pocket and holding it up so Rachel could see it. "I don't think you need one, though. Do you?"

"No," Rachel said, and this time she actually smiled. "I thought I did for a while, though."

"Me, too," Quinn admitted. "I wanted you to get it all out, though."

After another couple of minutes, of standing there and looking out across the water, Rachel said, "I still want to be mad at you. And Santana. But I get why you did it. I wish you had told me, though."

"I didn't think it would work if you knew," Quinn said. "Not this first time."

"First time?" Rachel asked. "I have to keep doing this?"

"If you want," Quinn said. "If you think it'll help. How do you feel right now?"

"Tired," Rachel said automatically. "But kind of peaceful. Like I sweated out all the feelings. Can you do that? Is that even a thing?"

"I always found running peaceful," Quinn said. "Except this summer. Santana and I were out here every morning doing the same thing while she 'motivated' me like she did you. Except it was all insults about the size of my ass and the sound of my thighs scraping together. Stuff like that."

"Is that how you knew she would do it for me?" Rachel asked.

"That, and it's how we weed out the Cheerios at the beginning of the season," Quinn said. "If they can't take the running and the insults, they definitely can't take Sue Sylvester and guys leering at them in their uniforms. There's a saying: strong body, strong mind. We Cheerios live by it."

Quinn reached out and took Rachel's hand, leading her down the path, this time at a brisk walk. She looked behind her to find Brittany and Santana catching up to them, when suddenly Rachel asked, "Do you think I would have made a good Cheerio?"

Quinn was taken aback at the question as images of Rachel in a Cheerios uniform popped into her head. The short skirt with those thighs peeking out between the pleats, those sexy bare arms wrapped around Quinn, those kissable shoulders, those… _Jesus, woman, get a hold of yourself_.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked again.

"Sorry, I was just…" Quinn said, unable to come up with anything besides 'drooling over you in a Cheerios uniform'. "Nothing. Anyway, you as a Cheerio? I think…" She paused this time and actually tried to think about it without just picturing Rachel in the uniform. "I think you'd actually be scary as a Cheerio. You're too driven, too focused. You would have ruled that school if you wanted to, but you wouldn't have been able to do what it takes to do it. Or to stay on top. You're too nice, like Brittany. I would have hated you, though. Or else been your best friend. I'm not sure which. I definitely would have wanted you on my side, though."

Rachel made a noncommittal noise, not really a response, but a reminder that she had heard Quinn, that she was listening. Quinn looked over to see Rachel deep in thought, so she stayed quiet, letting her think.

Eventually, Brittany and Santana made their way up to them, joining them but staying on Quinn's side and away from Rachel. "It's so pretty out here," Brittany said. "Sometimes me and San like to come out here and feed the ducks. Well, she doesn't, but she comes anyway."

"Britts," Santana said, almost sternly. "We talked about not telling people things we do together."

"I thought that just meant our sexy lady kisses," Brittany said, pouting. "I didn't know it meant other things, too. Sorry, Santi."

"Madre de dios, mi patita," Santana mumbled under her breath, looking over at Brittany. "Don't pout, Britts. It kills me to see it. It's fine, really. I guess they can know stuff about us. Just… just don't tell anyone else, okay?"

"Okay," Brittany said, reaching down and taking Santana's hand, kissing it, and holding it to her chest. "I didn't think you'd mind, anyway. It's sweet that you come with me to feed the ducks. And I thought since Rachel and Quinn were being all cute, that it was a sweet thing to share."

"We're being cute?" Quinn asked, looking over at Brittany who nodded and Santana who was doing her best to hold in a laugh. "How exactly are we being cute?"

"Well, you're holding hands," Brittany said, which caused Quinn to look down and realize she was still holding Rachel's hand. She had really just meant to grab it and pull her along walking. She hadn't even realized that she was still holding it. Hating doing it, Quinn let it go, stuffing her now empty hands in her pockets to avoid the temptation. She didn't dare look at Rachel to see her reaction. "And you're walking around the lake in the winter, talking and smiling. It's cute."

"Oh, well, we're- I mean, it's nothing," Quinn muttered.

"No," Santana said, smirking. "Britts right. It's cute."

Quinn looked past a smiling, nodding Brittany to glare at Santana. Well, fuck her. Two could play this game. "So, anyway, Britts, after breakfast, are you going over to see Artie? Didn't you say something about giving him his Christmas present today? Or was that tomorrow? I forget which."

Quinn watched as Santana withdrew her hand and folded her arms over her chest. Brittany gave a pout, but Santana just looked away so she turned it on Quinn, and then suddenly Quinn was feeling even more like the shitty person she was. "Tomorrow," Brittany said. "But I was going today to hang out with his family that's in town."

"That's… umm… that's cool," Quinn said, hating that she had done that. Why was she such a bitch sometimes?

They made their way back to Santana's car. They were about to get in when Rachel went over to Santana and surprise hugged her, before quickly releasing her. It was done so fast that Santana didn't even have a chance to get mad before Rachel was apologizing. "Sorry for that. And sorry for getting mad at you. I know you didn't mean any of it."

"It's cool," Santana said, wiping her arms like she could actually wipe the hug off of her. "Well, not the hugging. I warned you about that shit. But the other stuff, yeah. And I'm pretty sure you getting mad at me was the point, Berry. I look forward to doing it again. As long as you don't stay mad, it's kind of fun to make you cry."

Rachel looked horrified, and rushed to get in the backseat with Quinn. She buckled in and automatically put her head down on Quinn's shoulder and closed her eyes. Santana adjusted her rearview mirror and caught them, shooting Quinn a wink that caused her to blush before Santana was out of her eye line again.

On their way back to Santana's house, for showers and sopapillas, Quinn had to wonder if this was what her life was becoming. These three other girls, confused feelings, bitching back and forth, hurting each other, helping each other. She loved Brittany and Santana like sisters, like she did Frannie. And Rachel? Rachel was some other issue all her own. Quinn felt herself being drawn closer to Rachel, caring more about her well-being, more about her in general… and she hated it.


	17. Chapter 17: Cooking and Family

**Author's Note: To the people following, favoriting, and reviewing, thank you. Those of you that have reviewed the last few chapters and have gotten a response back from me know how much they mean to me. To the anonymous reviewers, they really do mean a lot. More than I can possibly say. And to the people that leave negative reviews, I would LOVE for you to sign up to give me your review so we can actually discuss your criticisms. Short of that, though, every one of your negative reviews only serves to raise my total number and make my story look better than it actually is. So thanks.**

**Also, this chapter deals more with some of Quinn's issues (as this story is about both girls).**

**Because I haven't said it, or maybe just haven't said it in a while, I don't own Glee. I know you're surprised. I also do this beta-less, so any grammatical mistakes or missing words or general sloppiness is my bad.**

**Otherwise, please enjoy. Review if you're feeling like it.**

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The four girls went back to Santana's house for showers and sopapillas which really were every bit as good as Brittany said they were. The sopapillas, not the showers, though they were pretty nice, too, after running seven miles that morning.

After personally helping her wrap up her stitches and bag her braced forearm, Quinn got Brittany to stay in the bathroom with Rachel while she took a shower. Rachel said she wasn't mad at Santana, that she understood what they did for her, but the glares she threw at the girl and the way she ignored her in conversation led Quinn to believe otherwise. Still, if anyone could make someone love Santana, it was Brittany. She'd done it for the past two years to new Cheerio recruits.

After breakfast, Quinn had dropped Rachel off at home, telling her. "Feel free to text me any time today. I'm sure I could use a break from babysitting cousins and drunk uncles." They both laughed, and Rachel promised to, in-between episodes of Buffy, of course. Santana had lent her the entire series, as well as all of Angel. Quinn made sure to tell her not to flip through any booklets or anything as there were some awesome surprises that could be ruined. Rachel had huffed and pouted again but ended up promising anyway. Quinn guaranteed her it would be worth it.

Quinn walked Rachel to her door, wanting to speak to Leroy and Hiram again before she left. If she was going to be Rachel's friend, she had to make an effort to get along with them, no matter what Leroy may suggest she is or how he may feel about her.

While Rachel went upstairs with Leroy to put away her bag, clothes, and the rest of her junk foods, Quinn followed Hiram into the kitchen. She handed over the pill bottles and, as quickly as possible, told him about the few times that Rachel had what Quinn was referring to as 'breakdowns'. She also told him they were going to start jogging every other morning, as Quinn had read that regular exercise was important after a suicide attempt. She didn't bother telling him that Rachel would be pushed as hard as she could take by someone that had bullied her for years. She didn't think he would understand. She also made sure to tell him to call her if anything happened to Rachel.

Once Rachel was back downstairs, they hugged goodbye for a minute, Rachel again promising to text Quinn to keep her sane throughout the family visit. She looked sad that Quinn was leaving, but there was nothing to be done for it. Honestly, Quinn hated to be leaving just as much as Rachel hated seeing her go. They couldn't stay around each other all the time, though, no matter how nice the last twenty-four hours had been. Well, mostly. There had been more good moments than bad at least.

Getting home a little after nine, Quinn found her mother in the kitchen, wearing an apron over her sweats and t-shirt and shoving a ham into the oven. "Quinnie, you're home, good," Judy said. "I need some help in here. Everyone's supposed to be here at one. That only gives us three hours. And I still need to take a shower and get ready." Quinn promised she'd be right back, but first she had to go check on Rachel's present. She felt bad leaving the kitten all alone. She'd called her mom after buying it, and Judy had promised to look after the kitten while Quinn was away. Judy wasn't a big fan of anything that shed, though, so she doubted her mother had done anything more than feed it and make sure it was alive.

After putting her bag down in her room and changing into something she could get messy cooking in, she went back out into the hall and into the bathroom. The little black and white kitten, what Brittany had called a 'tuxedo cat' was lying on a couple of towels and sleeping. Thankfully, Santana and Brittany had followed her instructions and put away anything that the kitten might get into. It was still really small, but it had eaten some of the can of kitten food her mother had fed it just that morning so Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing the tiny thing, she'd worried that it would still be on milk from its mother, no matter what Brittany had said to the contrary. She reached down and rubbed the top of its head a little, enough to get it to look up at her. Quinn smiled, and hoped again that this wasn't going to be a stupid present.

Soon, Quinn found herself back downstairs and in full female Fabray mode. Judy had taught Frannie and Quinn both from a young age how to cook, clean, sew, and anything else that Russell thought appropriate for daughters to know as future wives. Her father had seemed upset at times, not having sons, and Quinn wondered if that's why he took them to baseball and football games. She had never been a fan of baseball, but football she liked. Well, not the sport so much, but watching the cheerleaders. They had been amazing, athletic and beautiful. Those games her father had taken her to was one of the reasons Quinn wanted to be a Cheerio.

While they worked in the kitchen, Quinn gave her mom an abridged version of her sleepover. She left out all the negative parts: her near fight with Santana, Rachel's breakdowns, Brittany getting angry with her, Brittany and Santana's rampant sexual misadventures. No need to worry her in case she wanted to have them over sometime now that Russell was gone and Judy was sober. Actually…

"Hey, mom," Quinn started, stirring a pot on the stove. "It was really nice of Santana's parents to let us spend the night over there. She actually said we're welcome to spend the night anytime."

"That's sweet of her," Judy said while peeling potatoes. "How are Mr. and Mrs. Lopez?"

"They're okay," Quinn said. "We didn't actually see Mr. Lopez until breakfast this morning. He had an overnight shift at the hospital. Ms. Lopez seemed well, though."

"That's good, that's good," Judy said absentmindedly.

There was a few moments of silence between them before Quinn said, "So, seeing as how Mr. and Ms. Lopez were nice enough to have us over for a sleepover, I was thinking it would be a nice idea to give them a chance to some privacy one night and maybe invite Santana to have a sleepover here. Like… maybe next week while we're all still out of school?"

"Quinnie, you know Santana and Brittany are always invited over," Judy said with a smile, plopping another potato in the pot she was filling with newly peeled potatoes. She readjusted on her barstool at the kitchen island and waved a fresh potato towards Quinn as if that would help make her point. "I've been trying to get you to have them over forever."

"Yeah, I know, I know," Quinn said, feeling guilty. She didn't want to tell her mother she was embarrassed of her parents, though Quinn thought Judy might have had some idea. Apparently 'forever' was only the last eight months or so since Quinn had moved back in. It clearly didn't include her freshman or sophomore years when Judy had never mentioned having them over after that first time with Russell's leering and Judy's drinking. If she wanted to play the guilt game, though, Quinn could do just that. "I just…" Quinn sighed. "I guess I've just been trying to get used to living here again and everything. All the time I was kicked out, I got used to going over to their houses. But you're right. It would be nice to have everyone over here for a change."

Quinn watched from the corner of her eye as Judy's face dropped at the mention of her being kicked out. She felt like such a bitch for doing it, but she wasn't sure if Judy would want Rachel to come over. She didn't know how much of her father's ideology her mother actually agreed with. It might be too much for Judy Fabray to have the suicidal daughter of two openly gay men in her home.

"Yes," Judy said, a smile appearing to cover her previous downtrodden expression. "That would be lovely. I haven't seen those girls in ages."

"And you haven't even met Rachel yet," Quinn said, turning back to the stove to stir another pot. "I really think you'll like her." Or, she hoped Judy would, at least. Rachel was one of them now, for better or for worse. If Judy didn't like her then Quinn would just not have any of them over. "She's been kind of… moody… since, y'know, but before that, she was really talkative and polite and energetic. The kind of friend any parent would like, really." She turned back to Judy who was sitting there staring at Quinn. "What?"

"Quinn…," Judy said, dragging her name out. "I'm not so sure it would be such a good idea to have Rachel over. I know she's your friend and everything now, sweetie, but… I mean, wouldn't it be best if she stayed at her house and… I don't know. Recuperated? Isn't that what she really needs right now? I know if it were you, I would be worried about you leaving the house."

"She's already left her house, though. I mean, she spent the night at Santana's last night," Quinn said. Her mother stared at her. "Didn't I tell you she was going to be there? I'm pretty sure I did."

"No, Quinn, you didn't," Judy said stiffly. Possibly angrily. She hadn't really gotten angry at Quinn since she had come back home, so Quinn was unsure what this new, sober Judy Fabray's anger would be like. "I'm rather certain I would have remembered that."

"Oh," Quinn said, playing it off. "Sorry. But she was. And Santana and Brittany like her and I like her so I don't see why it matters if she was there or not. Her fathers were okay with it." _Eventually_, she thought. "So as long as they were okay with her staying over here, would it be okay, then?"

"I don't know," Judy said, shaking her head. "I'm still not sure."

"Then would it be okay if I spent the night at her house?" Quinn asked. If her mother was going to be this worried about her precious image, then Quinn would just stay away.

"Quinnie," Judy said again, stretching it out to somewhere between a warning and a plea. "I'm just not so sure that you spending time with this girl is such a good idea."

Quinn was silent for a long minute, taking a couple of deep breaths before she asked her question. Finally, she said, "Is this because Rachel's parents are gay?"

Judy opened her mouth to say something, then closed again, opting to shake her head. "No, sweetie," Judy said. "This has nothing to do with her… fathers."

"Right," Quinn said, laying the spoon she'd been using to stir down. "Sure. Okay, because why would the wife of Russell Fabray have a problem with her daughter hanging out at two gay men's house? Sure, _mother_." She went to walk out of the room, but stopped at the door. Turning back to Judy, she added, "Seeing how they act with Rachel just over the last couple of days, it showed me what a _real_ father is supposed to act like. How dare you… how _dare_ you judge them because they're gay. They're better parents that that man _ever_ was to me. And yet you take his side? You think that they're, what? Sinners? Just because they can't help who they love? That's the most… I can't even… Ugh!" And she turned to walk away again.

"Quinnie," Judy said, calling after her, but Quinn didn't stop until she called again. "Lucy!" Quinn stopped halfway through the living room, crossing her arms over her chest. Where had that burst of anger come from? What was she now, some kind of gay rights activist? She didn't care about Leroy and Hiram, she cared about Rachel. And Judy wasn't talking about Rachel specifically. So why did she care? Why did she suddenly care about her mother's view on gay people?

"Quinn," Judy said, coming up behind her. "Look at me. Please?" Quinn turned around but didn't look at her mother, choosing instead to stare down at the floor because suddenly her candy cane striped socks were far more interesting than anything Judy had to say. "Quinn?" she asked again. This time Quinn huffed, thinking that she'd been spending too much time around Rachel if she was now huffing like her, and raised her eyes to meet her mother's.

"I'm not your father," Judy said, a worried look in her eyes. "I'd like to think we discovered that in therapy this summer. And even though I might agree with him on some things or disagree with him on some things, I'd like to think that you wouldn't just assume that I'd take his side on everything. Especially something like this." Quinn was confused, and it must have shown because Judy said, "I don't hate gay people for being gay. I know what our old church said, but I don't. I don't think you can simply choose to be gay or not be gay. You can't choose who you love, Quinnie. If you could, I wouldn't… I wouldn't still care about your father."

"You…" Quinn started, but stopped, disbelieving. "You still love dad? After he kicked me out? After he cheated on you? After… after everything?"

"Sweetie, when you get to be my age," Judy said, "you start to realize life isn't as simple as people want it to be. Your father wasn't always the man he is now. He used to be so sweet, so romantic. He would bring me flowers for no reason, write little love notes and leave them around the house. Your grandmother died while we were still dating in high school, and I was just… distraught. And do you know what he did? He took me to his mother and said, 'I know your mom isn't with us anymore, but don't think you don't still have a mother living. Everything I have is yours. Forever.' In high school, Quinnie." Judy wiped away a tear that was falling down her cheek. Quinn had never heard her talk about her father like this, even during therapy. "I may not love who he is now, but I'll always love that sixteen year old boy I fell in love with." Judy was quiet for a moment, wiping at her eyes with her apron. After she had collected herself, she said, "So I choose to believe that God doesn't make mistakes. People do. People make mistakes all the time. But God doesn't. So if Rachel's parents were born gay, then that's how they're supposed to be, and I can't hate them for that."

"Then… why?" Quinn asked. "Why do you not want me to be around Rachel?"

"It's not about her, Quinnie," Judy said, taking a deep breath. "It's about you. Do you think I didn't listen when you were talking the other night about needing to help Rachel, about feeling like God told you to help Rachel? You're taking responsibility for this girl because you feel guilty. I can't let you do that."

"What? Why not?" Quinn asked. "It's my fault."

"No," Judy said. "Her actions are not your fault. Isn't that something Dr. Richards said in therapy? How other people deal with problems isn't your fault. It was the same way when I tried to blame my drinking on your father. No one held a gun to my head. No one made me drink. I could have sought help at any time. I could have gone to meetings. Just because your father was worried about his image didn't mean he actually kept me from going. _I_ kept me from going. It took me a long time to be able to admit that, but I can admit it now."

Quinn was even more confused. "I don't-"

"It's the same with you and Rachel, sweetie," Judy said. "Rachel didn't hurt herself because of you." Quinn started to protest but Judy grabbed her upper arms, pulling her closer so she could look her directly in the eye. "She didn't. She hurt herself because of her. I'm not excusing what you did. Bullying her was wrong, and we both know that, but you've punished yourself enough. I'm not going to let you punish yourself anymore."

"Being with Rachel isn't punishment, mom," Quinn said, pulling away from Judy. "I actually like Rachel, okay? I mean, sure, I didn't think I would at first. She talks far too much and she's annoying and bossy and kind of a know-it-all, but, deep down, she's really caring and sweet and nice. And, yes, okay, I _do_ feel guilty, and I'm trying to help her get better, but I'm not punishing myself by being around her. I like being around her."

"I didn't mean it like that, Quinn," Judy said. "I just meant… if she tries to hurt herself again-"

"She won't."

"But if she does-"

"She's not going to," Quinn ground out. "I'm not discussing this with you." And again Quinn tried to walk away, but Judy grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face her.

"Doesn't you not even wanting to talk about the _possibility_ of Rachel attempting something like this again show you that I'm telling the truth," Judy said. "God forbid Rachel actually kill herself,-"

"Mom!"

"but if she did, how would you feel?" Judy asked. Quinn looked down, unwilling to answer the question. She had the nightmares already asking her the same thing. Now her mother, too? "I know you, sweetie. I know your heart. You'd feel like you failed her. And I can't sit by and watch you do that to yourself. I can't watch you blame yourself for Rachel."

"You'd rather I blame you?" Quinn asked. "When I'm with her… she says it makes everything better. She told me I make her feel normal. That I make her feel… better. And if you tell me I can't see her and she does actually… do it… I'll blame you."

"I'd much rather have you blame me than yourself," Judy said simply.

With that, Judy turned and walked back into the kitchen. Quinn looked at her from the corner of her eye, watching her taking over the stirring of pots while trying to finish peeling potatoes. Her mom was worried about her. A year ago, Quinn would have given anything in the world to know that Judy was worried about her, to know that she was loved. Now? Now it was just kind of pissing her off. She didn't need Judy. She didn't need her when she was bouncing around from house to house, she didn't need her when nobody wanted her, and she damn sure didn't need her now. She wouldn't do like Santana and Brittany had done. She wouldn't give up on Rachel. No matter what Judy said.

Quinn sighed. She didn't need Judy's approval… but she still wanted it.

"Move," Quinn said, taking the spoon from Judy and stirring the different pots while Judy went back to peeling potatoes. They were mostly silent as they finished making Christmas lunch for the family coming over, saying only what needed to be said to get the job done. An hour later, just as everything was finished and Judy was smiling at Quinn over a job well done, Quinn said, "You know I'm still going to see her, don't you? Rachel? I'm not giving up on her."

Judy shook her head, and smiled a sad smile. "You wouldn't be my daughter if you did. And to answer your next question, yes, I would rather have the both of you here where I can keep an eye on you than have you God knows where doing God knows what. Next Thursday, you can have Santana and Brittany… _and_ Rachel… over if you want."

Quinn smiled, running over and hugging Judy with an unexpected hug that had the both of them laughing. With a kiss on the cheek, Quinn said, "Now go shower, mom. You stink."

"Thank you, dear heart," Judy said, kissing the top of Quinn's head and walking up the stairs.

After a cursory glance around the kitchen to make sure nothing was wrong and casting a glance at the ham in the oven, Quinn went back upstairs. She stopped in the bathroom, giving the kitten another rub between its ears, then went to her room to change and get ready for company. She checked her phone and saw four missed texts from Rachel in- Quinn glanced at the clock, seeing that it was 11:17- less than two hours. Unlocking her phone, she read the texts:

_**From Rachel Berry:**__ Hi, Quinn. It's Rachel. I didn't know what time your family was coming over so I didn't know what time I should text you, so I thought I would go ahead and say_

_**From Rachel Berry:**__ again that I had a lot of fun with you and Santana and Brittany yesterday and this morning. Well this morning not so much, but you know what I me_

_**From Rachel Berry:**__ an. Hope you're having a good Christmas Eve. –Rachel Berry*_

They were sent all at the same time, and Quinn couldn't help but marvel at how talkative Rachel was, even through texting. A little while later another text was sent that read:

_**From Rachel Berry:**__ Sorry that text was so long. I guess you're busy with your family. -Rachel Berry*_

Quinn couldn't help but like Rachel. She was just so adorable. Kind of like Brittany, but different. Sadder, like she just wanted so much for people to like her, but still with that same kind of innocence that Brittany had. How could someone that was depressed enough to try what Rachel tried still have that kind of innocence? It both amazed Quinn and made her increasingly depressed at the same time. Rachel shouldn't ever have felt that way. She shouldn't have ever felt that was her only option.

Texting Rachel back, Quinn wrote:

_**From Quinn Fabray:**__ Did you seriously put a star after your name in a text? And I know who it is. You don't have to sign your name lol_

_**From Quinn Fabray: **__And the family's not here yet. I was busy cooking with mom_

The response she got back was automatic, like Rachel had been sitting by her phone. God, the girl probably was.

_**From Rachel Berry:**__Sorry. I'm not used to texting a lot. Haven't really had anyone to text except my dads. And I'm just used to putting a star after my name._

_**From Rachel Berry:**__ It's dumb, I should stop._

_**From Quinn Fabray:**__ It's not dumb. How about I put one beside your name on your caller id so you don't have to keep writing it?_

_**From Rachel Berry*:**__ Really? You'd do that for me?_

_**From Quinn Fabray:**__ Already done. I should go, though. Make sure nothing's burning. Text you later. :-)_

After a little while, Quinn's house was filled with aunts and uncles she hadn't seen in years, cousins she barely knew, and her grandfather who she'd loved more than anything growing up. Most of them had stayed away from the Fabray house because of Russell. He'd loved Judy, but he'd never really seen eye-to-eye with most of her family. More often than not, Russell's family would visit over the holidays and Judy would make excuses of why they couldn't come visit or why it was too crowded to have them over. This year, with Russell moved across town, it was like reconnecting with long lost loved ones.

Everyone marveled over how beautiful 'little Lucy' had become, and both Quinn and Judy had to remind everyone that she went by 'Quinn' now. If anyone knew about Quinn's pregnancy or her parents kicking her out, they chose not to say anything. More likely, though, they didn't know. Russell made sure to keep quiet the things that made him look bad, and it was a trait that Quinn had learned from him. Most of Judy's family lived out of town now so she doubted anyone had seen her pregnant around town. Even if they had, Quinn had changed her name, nose, glasses, and hair color since they'd last seen her so they wouldn't even recognize her if they had.

As she mingled around the room, listening to people over and over say how beautiful she was now, how she had blossomed, how much she had changed, Quinn found herself beside a cousin holding a baby. The baby girl was probably eight or nine months old with a curly mop of blonde hair on her head and beautiful hazel eyes. The cousin, Jill, she thought she'd said her name was, was already pregnant with her second child and had to run to the bathroom and, oh, wouldn't Quinn just love to hold the baby for a second while she did? Quinn had tried to refuse, to back out, but the baby had nearly been shoved in her arms as the woman walked quickly off.

Looking into the baby's face, she knew it wasn't Beth, knew it wasn't _her_ baby. Beth was with Shelby right then, and- God, she had just thought her name twice. Quinn couldn't help but wonder where she was, what she was doing, what was happening. It would be her first Christmas, but Shelby was Jewish, so she guessed it would have been her first Hanukkah instead.

Last Christmas, Quinn had been with Puck at Target as she helped him look for a present for his mom, and they'd mistakenly gone down the Christmas aisle. Upon looking at and holding a 'Baby's First Christmas' stocking, she'd started sobbing uncontrollably. They'd had to go out to his truck where she'd cried for forty-five solid minutes. Now, here she was, a year later, holding a baby that looked so much like Beth.

"Lucy- I mean, Quinn, sorry," one of her aunts said. "Are you okay?"

"No," Quinn said, standing with the baby and passing her off to her Aunt… fuck, she couldn't even remember the woman's name right then. Hell, she may not have even been her aunt. "I have- I have to go." And she was rushing upstairs, leaving a crowd of gawking family members behind her.

Reaching her room, Quinn quietly closed the door, ever mindful of her family downstairs. She didn't want to disrupt the get-together, no matter how much she felt like slamming doors and throwing things and screaming until she was hoarse. She paced the room, willing herself not to cry, not to cry, not to cry. She was sick of crying, like she had reached some kind of mental limit and she refused to let herself. She hadn't cried this much since she'd been pregnant. What the fuck was wrong with her?

Rachel. Rachel was wrong with her. It was Rachel's fault how much she'd been crying. Every time she had told someone about the previous Saturday, about Rachel, she had cried. Her mom, Santana, at the hospital with Leroy and Hiram. Then, watching Find Nemo and thinking about her dad, she'd lost it again in front of Rachel. And that wasn't even counting the nights in the past week she'd woken from the nightmares, the memory of Rachel lying bleeding in the bathtub more twisted and horrifying than she could take until she'd woken up crying into her pillow. And now, the baby downstairs… though, okay, that one was a little harder to pin on her. Still, if not for this past week, Quinn would have been tough enough to handle it. This was Rachel's fault.

_God,_ Quinn thought, closing her eyes and wrapping a hand around the silver cross she always wore. _I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm trying to be strong, but it's hard. It's so hard. Please grant me the strength to get through this. I want to think I did the right thing, that Beth has a better chance now than she ever would have had with me, but… I don't know. Please just… just watch over Beth, Lord. Protect her. Keep her safe. Make her happier than I can seem to make myself. And, yes, I know Rachel's not really to blame, but… just… Make me hard, o Lord. Make me a stone so I can keep from breaking. I have to be strong for Rachel and for mom and for Puck. Please just give me strength. Please-_

"Quinnie," Judy asked, a knock on the door interrupting her prayer. "Quinn, honey, can I come in?"

Quinn said a quiet, "In Jesus name we pray, amen," and crossed herself before opening her eyes again. She pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes, probably smearing her makeup, but as least she wasn't crying. She went over to the door and opened it, her mom not even speaking before she crossed the threshold and had Quinn in her arms.

"Oh, Quinnie," Judy said. "I'm so sorry. I saw Gillian," _So not Jill, but Gillian_, Quinn corrected herself, "handing the baby to you. I wasn't even thinking about how it would affect you until I saw you run off. I'm so, so sorry, sweetie."

"It's okay, mom," Quinn said, pulling back. "Really. I was just a little… emotional, but I'm fine." Emotional. It was laughable that the word could be applied to Quinn Fabray. Where was her veneer? Where was the Ice Quinn? Where was the Head Bitch? Where was the perfect Fabray daughter? It was her mask, her armor, and Rachel was eroding it just by being around her.

"Are you sure, sweetie?" Judy asked again.

"I'm sure," Quinn said, shaking the thoughts away. "I just… I need to make a phone call. I'll be right back downstairs." Judy started to walk away, but Quinn stopped her and pulled her back in for another tight hug. "Thanks, mom."

"Sure, honey," Judy said, smiling and patting the back of her head.

Once her mother was out of the room again, Quinn quickly had her phone in hand and was scrolling through her contact list down towards who she needed to talk to the most at the moment. After four rings, a gruff voice finally picked up. "Hello?"

"Puck?" Quinn asked, unsure.

"Yeah, hey, sorry," Puck said, clearing his throat loudly away from his phone before speaking again. "You woke me."

"It's three in the afternoon," Quinn said with a laugh. "Surely even you're up by now."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Puck said. "I was with a girl from Perry last night and she wore me out. I was trying to recharge the Puckasaurus's batteries. Man can't run on beer alone."

"It's Christmas Eve, Puckerman," Quinn said. "Surely even you take off a couple of days for the holidays."

"To a fine Jew like me, babe, it's just another Thursday night," Puck said. Quinn swore she could feel the smarm coming through her cell phone. "So what's up? You find some mistletoe that you need some of the Puckmeister under? Need me to 'trim your tree'? 'Deck your halls'? Uh… something else Christmas related?" He paused. "Sorry. Christmas isn't exactly my best time for pickup lines."

Quinn chuckled but didn't respond as she stared out the window. It looked like it might snow at any time, and she found herself hoping for a white Christmas. Images of Beth in a tiny snowsuit sprung into her mind then, playing out in the snow. Her mother had pictures of Quinn when she was younger doing the same thing, and she realized that she'd never have that. Not with Beth, at least. Quinn wouldn't be there to make those memories with her, and as much as she was glad Beth was with someone that could take care of her and raise her, she wished so much that it was her.

"Puck," Quinn said as the tears finally started to fall. Quinn cursed herself for the weakness, but she reveled in it, too. If she was going to be some weak, little weepy chick, then at least let it be over something worthwhile like her daughter. "Puck, do you… do you think we did the right thing? With… with Beth?"

She heard him take a long breath, then say, "Absolutely. Shelby's great. If we didn't feel right about her, we never would have done it. _You_ never would have signed all that stuff if she wasn't. I think the perfect person came along at the exact right time. If I didn't believe in the Big Man before that, I would now."

"I know, I know," Quinn said wetly. "I just… sometimes…"

"Me too, Q. Me too," Puck said. There was a long pause in the conversation where Puck just listened to Quinn cry, shushing her and attempting to comfort her. The phone made it far more difficult than actually being there, but, as much as Quinn would always have a spot for Puck in her heart, seeing him right then would make it worse. Like a physical reminder of what she'd lost. Like the baby downstairs. After a while, though, he must have figured she was okay, because Puck asked, "How's Rachel, by the way?"

Quinn was wiping at her eyes but stopped, surprised by the question. "She's okay. Why do you ask?"

"Just, thinking about the adoption and everything got me thinking about her," Puck said. "Do you remember what you told me about Shelby?"

"…no?" Quinn said, racking her brain about anything she'd said about Shelby and Rachel. Honestly, a large chunk of the time after having the baby (and Quinn thanked God she'd gotten back to calling her the baby again) was kind of a blur.

"You said that if Shelby has her shit together near as much as Rachel Berry does, then Beth will be fine," Puck said with a chuckle, though it quickly faded. "Though, I guess she really doesn't anymore, though, does she?"

"She will, though," Quinn said. "I'm sure she'll be annoying the hell out of us in Glee in no time."

"Here's hoping," Puck said. She heard the smile in his voice, though she could tell it was weak, much like her own. "Just… tell her I said hey, and that me and mom and Sarah are all glad she's… y'know. Not dead."

"I will," Quinn said. "Thanks."

"Anytime, baby mama," Puck said, and any other time she would have gotten mad that he'd called her that, but right then? It was the link they shared. It was what would always connect her with Noah Puckerman, and she wouldn't have traded it for anything.


	18. Chapter 18: Christmas Morning

**Author's Note: This chapter is for Lu, my kitty that passed away this year. You were the best cat ever. The story that Leroy and Hiram tell is almost word for word how his name came about, too.**

* * *

"Rach-el," she heard being sing-songed to her across some wide expanse between asleep and awake that she clearly couldn't bridge. Not this early. Something inside told her that it was still dark, that it was still far, far too early, and that she could still sleep for… well, forever, really, and whoever was trying to wake her was just some Quinn-shaped figment of her subconscious and besides, pillows weren't allowed to talk and also… snore.

"Rachel, it's Christmas morning," the voice called out again a minute later and Rachel knew she needed to do something about it. "You need to get- unf!" The last sound was of her pillow being pulled by the arm and somehow dragged down under her so she could rest atop her Quinn's-breasts-shaped pillow as it was clearly meant to be. Maybe she had superpowers this early in the morning? That would make it a lot easier to fight the vampires that were… snore.

"Rachel," her pillow said again as laughter shook her. "You really shouldn't be on top of my-" but a quick nuzzle to her pillow caused it to gasp and quickly close its mouth. Good. Well-behaved pillows weren't supposed to talk, anyway.

"Stop being a… bad pillow," Rachel said, as she readjusted and pressed her face further into Quinn's breasts. "The vampires will get you if you're not quiet, so shhhh…" And with the "shhhh" she added what was supposed to be a delicate finger to her pillow's lips but was more like a lazy hand dropping onto Quinn's face.

Her hand was moved away. "Rachel." Again with the talking? This time more serious, though. Why couldn't her pillow just "shhhh" like she'd told it to? She'd stayed up until two in the morning watching the entire first season of Buffy and it was too early to worry whether or not the Master would try to kill her pillow or whether Finn would ask her to the dance instead of asking Buffy or… snore. "Rachel, really. Your face is in places. Bad places."

"No," Rachel said, again burrowing, pressing her face closer and readjusting to the wonderful softness. "Good places. Happy places. Sleepy places." There. That well thought out logic should convince her. Stupid pillow. Also… snore.

"Rachel, if you don't get off of me right now," Quinn said, "I'm keeping your presents."

"Presents?" Rachel asked, raising up suddenly and blinking, looking around her room. The lamp beside her bed was on but not the overhead light, and… somehow… Quinn was lying beside her. "Quinn? Are you… are you really here? I had a dream that you were… a vampire slayer… but also my… pillow? That doesn't make any sense." Rachel rubbed her eyes a couple of times and stared down at Quinn who was blushing profusely. "And did you say something about presents?"

"I thought that would get your attention," Quinn said, rising up beside the bleary-eyed diva. Rachel looked over to her clock and saw that it was 5:47. AM. As Rachel stared at the clock, trying to wrap her brain around the fact that it was so early and she was up on a day where she _literally_ had nothing planned besides more Buffy watching, Quinn started apologizing. "Sorry it's so early. When I was little, Frannie and I would always be up by six in the morning. I was excited about getting everything set up, so I must have finished a little early." She was quiet for a moment before uttering another, "Sorry."

"Quinn, did you…" Rachel stopped. It seemed stupid, but… "Did you just break into my house?"

Quinn reddened, looking down at her lap. "Uh, Santa Claus left it open for me?" Rachel continued to stare at her until she finally looked up. "I just thought it would ruin the surprise if I had to call you to let me in."

"So you broke in?"

"Yeah, it's a thing I do," Quinn said. "Sorry. Again."

Rachel sat there, unsure what to make of this new Quinn-centric information (_Quinnformation!_ her sleepy brain said with some measure of glee, and she knew she'd be keeping that word around for a long time). Finally she said, "I'm going to forget about this because you said you have presents for me, but I wouldn't tell my dads if I were you." With the she shuffled off of the bed and headed towards the bathroom, saying, "I know I'm not allowed to close the door, so will you at least pretend that you can't hear me peeing out here."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Quinn said, turning away from the door to the bathroom to give Rachel some modicum of privacy.

In the past week (_Today's a week_, she thought. _Tonight will be an entire week._), Rachel had figured out a system for washing her hands… well, hand. She didn't use her left hand for anything and used hand sanitizer to clean her fingers poking out of the brace multiple times per day. Being right-handed, Rachel had never thought about how much she actually used her left hand. She supposed it was just one of those things people generally took for granted. Her right hand, though, she'd figured out how to wash one-handed. Using hand-pump soap and the stopper of the sink, Rachel had figured out a way to kind of slosh her hand around while the sink filled up, then rinsing as the sink emptied. Call it small or stupid or whatever, but she was proud of that. Rachel had always been proud of her self-sufficiency.

Out of the bathroom, Rachel noticed Quinn was standing at the door between her room and the hallway. Once Quinn had seen she was done, she reached over and grabbed Rachel's hand, leading her out, down, and into the living room.

Taking it in, Rachel wasn't sure what she was seeing at first. Quinn had cleared off the end table from beside the couch, leaving the picture frame and lamp that had been sitting on it in the recliner. She had then set the end table beside the fireplace, which she had lit. On top of that, she had placed a small plastic tree replete with colored lights, small ornaments, and even a big gold star. On the floor in front of the coffee table in multicolored wrapping papers were a bunch of presents, all with loopy satiny bows.

"It's so beautiful, Quinn," Rachel said. She looked over to Quinn whose eyes were shining in the firelight, looking only at her. "I wish I had my phone with me so I could take some pictures."

Quinn held hers up and shook it. "I took a bunch while I was setting everything up," Quinn said, "as well as when mom and I were wrapping presents last night. I had a feeling you might be interested."

Rachel turned to Quinn and grabbed her, wrapping her arms around her neck and pulling her in close. "This is the best- it's so pretty- I can't believe you-" She finally stopped, ending up on a simple, heartfelt, "Thank you, Quinn."

"Merry Christmas, Rachel," Quinn said, arms around her waist and holding her just as tightly.

"Merry Christmas, Qui-" Rachel noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. "Um.. Quinn? Did that box just move?"

Quinn pulled back, unable to contain her smile. "Psshh, no," she said, though she was a little quicker about everything after that. Forcing Rachel to sit down, she handed a box to her. "Here, open this one first so you don't forget about it while you're opening the others."

Ripping off the wrapping paper and opening the box, Rachel pulled out a leather bound book. Opening it to the first page, she saw Quinn had written an inscription to her:

_'Rachel. Life is difficult, and it's hard to make sense of everything sometimes. I hope this journal will help.'_

Below that, in beautiful flowing script, Quinn had written a quote:

_'Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying "I will try again tomorrow".' -Mary Anne Radmacher_

"Quinn, I don't…" Rachel started, but there just weren't words enough so she threw her arms around the blonde again and hugged her again for all she was worth, issuing forth another, "Thank you." She was enjoying the hug when suddenly, from another box came a tiny, pathetic 'mew'. Rachel pulled back to look at a sheepishly smiling Quinn. "Okay, that box that didn't move last time, I'm pretty sure it just meowed."

"Next present," Quinn said quickly, taking the box that had now moved and meowed and setting it gently in Rachel's lap. It wasn't wrapped like the other ones, but instead had holes punched all in the sides and had a hug floppy bow on top.

Hesitantly lifting the lid, Rachel looked down and locked eyes with the most adorable kitten she had ever seen. It was mostly black with white on its face, its feet and its stomach. It was also shivering, clearly scared, and Rachel followed her instincts to take it out of the box and hold it to her long-sleeved pajama top, cradling and comforting the little thing.

"It's a girl," Quinn said, coming to sit beside her. "Brittany called it a tuxedo cat, because of the black and white, but I think it looks more like some kind of cat-panda. I've been calling her 'Canda'." Quinn reached out and scratched the kitten on the top of the head between its ears, and she looked up at her. "She likes that," she added, before going back to what she was originally saying. "Anyway, I came up with a better name for her."

Rachel was still kind of shocked, but she eventually found her voice and asked, "Don't I get to name her?"

"No," Quinn said playfully. "Because I already named her. You can't change her name now, or she'll get confused. You don't want her growing up with identity issues, do you?" This caused Rachel to giggle, because, no, she really didn't. Everyone should know who they are. "So I picked a name for her." And Rachel looked up at Quinn, because her voice had gone serious again. "I named her Babs."

Rachel looked down at the kitten who was looking up between the two of them, and she tried to tell if the kitten liked the name or not, but, really, it was a cat. She could have named it 'Bobo, the three-headed mongoose'. She did look significantly happier after being out of the box, though, so maybe that was something. "Babs is short for Barbra," Rachel said finally.

"I know," Quinn said, voice still thoughtful, or maybe it was reverential. Rachel couldn't tell. She just knew that this was important to Quinn, so she made sure to listen. "I wanted her to be a part of you, so I gave her your name. Kind of." Quinn paused for a moment, again rubbing the kitten between the ears. "Now this kitten, she's still a baby. She doesn't have a mother anymore, so you have to be her mother now. She's relying on you. For everything. That means…" Quinn paused, clearing her throat, suddenly having trouble speaking, "that means you can't leave her alone in the world. You have to… you have to stay here. For her."

Rachel looked stricken. "Quinn, I can't- I can't promise that," she said, suddenly trying to stuff the kitten into Quinn's hands.

Quinn only stood from the couch, backing away. "Look at her, Rachel," Quinn said, and Rachel did, staring down at the little kitten that was now kneading its tiny little claws into her pajama pants. It was maybe the cutest slightly painful thing she'd ever seen. "I'll take her back if you want, and _maybe_ they can find a home for her. Maybe. But you care about animals. You know how many pets are out there, how many are unwanted. Especially this time of year. You know what happens to them."

"Quinn," Rachel said, whining out her name. She was literally pained at the thought of little Babs being put down. "I can't… I can't do that to her, but…" She trailed off.

Rachel had liked the idea of suicide, keeping it open as an option. It made everything easier to deal with. Now Quinn was forcibly taking that option away, and Rachel couldn't even hate her for it because, really, just look at those little whiskers. Those tiny little paws. That weird little half a mustache marking above her lip. Rachel had never believed in love at first sight until this morning. Now… "I hate you, Fabray," Rachel said, though there was no malice in it. She couldn't even find it in herself to be angry when she was looking down at that little face.

"I know," Quinn said, joining her again on the couch. She leaned over and bumped her shoulder against Rachel's. "I hate me, too, sometimes. But Babs isn't the only one that needs you to stick around."

Rachel blushed. "Needs?"

"Did I say need?" Quinn asked, blushing too. "I think I meant tolerate."

After the first two amazing presents, Rachel had been less than excited about the rest, though she tried not to let it show. She just hated getting useful presents, even if they were necessary. There was a cat carrier, a litter box, food and water bowls, a few cans of kitten food, a brush, and a few toys. It was like a new kitten starter set. She told Rachel she'd thought about getting catnip also, but Brittany had told her, "Cats don't need drugs to have fun, Quinn." Rachel agreed. Catnip had always looked a little too much like marijuana for her tastes.

Eventually, Rachel's dads had made their way downstairs, probably prompted from the amount of laughter coming from Rachel and Quinn. They had been sitting a few feet apart, facing each other and rolling one of the cat toys between them while Babs jumped and chased after it. The toy was too big for her, though, so she was still kind of afraid of it and would scamper back to Rachel or Quinn whenever it actually touched her.

"Quinn?" Leroy asked, coming down the stairs and spotting the girls in front of the couch. "When did you get here?"

"About an hour ago," Quinn lied, taking Rachel's advice. Not that she wanted her lying to her fathers, but Rachel wasn't sure how they'd feel about Quinn being able to basically break in whenever she wanted to. Rachel still wasn't sure how she felt about it.

"And who is that?" Leroy asked, bending down to pet the kitten in Rachel's hands. The kitten batted playfully at his fingers, and he smiled down at it.

"This is Babs, Daddy," Rachel said, holding her up as if she were Rafiki and Babs was little Simba. "Babs, this is Daddy."

"Very nice to meet you, Babs," Leroy said, chuckling. "She sort of looks like the cat your Dad and I had when we first got married."

Rachel looked up, cradling the kitten back to her chest. "I didn't know you had a cat."

"We did," Leroy said. Quinn looked over and saw Hiram coming down the stairs. "Little guy named Lu. It was short for Lubert."

"Like on iCarly?" Rachel asked. When everyone looked at her with confusion, she blushed and said, "Kid's show. Never mind. That's kind of an ugly name, though. Why'd you pick it?"

Hiram spoke up this time, joining them by the couch. Smiling, he said, "We actually named him Lucy to begin with. Mr. '_I don't want to get in our cat's personal business_' here named him before ever seeing if he was a boy or a girl. After I checked and found out he was a boy, we shortened it to Lu."

Leroy picked the story back up. "Until he started getting into trouble. Then we lengthened it to Lubert so we would have something longer to yell at him. Lu just isn't a name suitable for yelling."

They both reached down to pet the kitten in Rachel's hands at the same time. The men's hands brushed against each other, and they both pulled back but shared smiles.

"Quinn, are you staying for breakfast?" Hiram asked as he and Leroy made their way towards the kitchen. "You're welcome if you want."

"I…" Quinn started, looking to Rachel. If it was up to Rachel, she'd have Quinn there all day, every day. Quinn just kept surprising her in the best possible ways. Being open with her, letting her be her friend, joining the 'Unholy Trinity', and now Babs. It was Christmas, though, and she knew Quinn probably wanted to be with her family. At least her mom, anyway.

"You don't have to," Rachel said, squeezing Babs into a cuddle. She tried not to be sad that Quinn would be leaving so soon after getting there, but it was no use. It was like the way someone would tell her not to think about something, anything really… purple giraffes, and then her mind couldn't get away from thinking about purple giraffes. Trying not to be sad Quinn was leaving was like not thinking about purple giraffes. It was impossible.

"I would actually love to, if that's okay." Rachel's head shot up to look at Quinn. She was confused, but really happy. What about her family? Wasn't there more important places she should be? "I already told my mom I'd be over here for a while this morning. She was just happy to be able to get to sleep in. And Rachel's already told me about your famous Mickey Mouse head pancakes…"

Rachel blushed at the memory. It was the second day she was in the hospital. She'd been crying, worrying she was crazy, and Quinn had distracted her, asking her questions. She'd asked her what her favorite meal was, and Rachel had said breakfast and told her about her dad's pancakes. It was also when she'd said that she preferred cats to dogs. Why that sneaky, little…

"You asked me," Rachel said finally. Hiram and Leroy had already gone ahead towards the kitchen to get started on breakfast, leaving the girls to play with Babs. "You asked me if I like cats or dogs better, and I said cats." Quinn nodded. "And if I'd said dogs…?"

"You'd probably be sitting here with a puppy named Babs instead," Quinn said.

Setting Babs down, Rachel got onto her knees and knee-walked the couple of feet over to Quinn, falling down on top of her as she threw her arms around her neck and hugged her. "Thank you," Rachel said. "This is the best Christmas ever."

"You're Jewish," Quinn said, pulling her in tighter. "Isn't it your first Christmas?"

"Details."

* * *

They ended up watching a couple of episodes of Buffy in Rachel's bed after breakfast, Babs wandering around the blanket between them. For the first time, Rachel found herself thankful that her dads had to suicide-proof her room because it was surprisingly like cat-proofing it. Now there were no sharp objects or chemicals that Babs might accidentally hurt herself with.

They set up the litter box in Rachel's bathroom and her food and water bowls next to her dresser. It was decided that, for a little while, Babs would be confined to the upstairs. They were worried that she might hurt herself going down the steps, or, sicne she was so little, not be able to get back up them once down there. Hiram and Leroy had even gone down to the basement and taken the old baby gate from Rachel's shrine of memorabilia to block the stairs. She asked them once why they kept so much stuff, and their answer was always "Because when you're famous, we can sell it on EBay and retire to the Bahamas."

After a while, Rachel had fallen asleep, again snuggling into Quinn in probably inappropriate ways. She couldn't help it. Quinn was quickly becoming her favorite pillow. And Quinn couldn't have cared too much, because when Rachel woke up a few hours later- she glanced at the clock from where she lay, and, okay, it was more than a few- she was wrapped from behind in soft pale arms. On the television, an episode that they had already watched was on, so she figured Quinn must have been rewatching it so as to give her something to do but not spoil anything in case Rachel woke up.

"Sorry," Rachel said, putting her hands over the hands that were holding her around the middle and pressing her body back slightly, feeling Quinn's warmth. "I must have fallen asleep."

"It's okay," Brittany said. "I haven't seen this episode in a while."

Rachel rolled over and away from Brittany, eyes wide with shock. "Brittany?" she asked dumbly, because, yes, of course it was the taller blonde Cheerio with the giant smile. "Why are you here? Where's Quinn?"

"Q had to leave," Brittany said. "Family stuff, I think. I wanted to come over and see your kitten so I asked her if I could. You looked so cute sleeping that I thought I'd join you." Worry lines formed on her forehead. "You're not mad, are you?"

Rachel wanted to be mad, but she realized most of that came not from Brittany spooning her but from finding that it wasn't Quinn. "No, I'm not mad," Rachel said finally. "Just… surprised."

"Because you thought I was Quinn," Brittany said, again smiling. "You like her."

"Of course I like her," Rachel said. "She's my friend."

"Yeah, but you like her like her. Like me and Santana," Brittany said, almost singing it out she was so happy. "She's your complicated."

It took Rachel a minute to remember the talk from the couple of days before. "What? No, it's not like- I mean, I'm not even- and Quinn has Sam, and-"

"It's okay, Rach," Brittany said. "I won't tell."

Rachel stared at the tall blonde for a long minute before she sighed. "Thank you, Brittany."

"No problem," Brittany said. "You're my BFF. That's what we do. But now you have to introduce me to Babs."

Rachel looked over to the corner of the bed where the kitten was sleeping and had been the entire time. "She's right there, Brittany."

"Yeah, but I haven't played with her or anything yet," Brittany said. "I thought it would be rude. And besides, you're not supposed to talk to strangers, so until you introduce me to her, I'm a stranger."

"That's…" Rachel started to say weird or… something, but it _did_ make a strange kind of sense. Instead of finishing her sentence, she reached out and picked Babs up who mewed at being woken. She held her out to Brittany, again Rafiki style, and said, "Brittany, this is Babs. Babs, this is Brittany. She's my best friend."

Babs mewed again, and Brittany took her, instantly folding her in and cradling her in a way Rachel hadn't. "This is how you hold her," Brittany said. "You shouldn't Lion King her because it's bad for their spines as they get older. Also, because she's a girl, and that might gender confuse her."

"But…" Rachel liked 'Lion King'ing Babs. It was fun to show her off. And… "Wait. Wasn't the lion a girl at the end of the movie?"

"I don't think so," Brittany said. "It was called the Lion _King_. That'd really be more of a lion princess."

Rachel shook her head. "No, I'm sure that in the second one, she-"

"There's a second one?" Brittany interrupted, suddenly excited. "How come no one told me?"

Rachel shrugged, confused. "I don't think I'm qualified to answer that." Seeing the look on Brittany's face, though, she added, "We have it if you'd like to watch it."

"Oh, oh! Can we?" Brittany asked, sitting up on her knees and waving Babs around. "No, wait, oh, I forgot. Presents first." She put Babs back in Rachel's arms, Rachel now mimicking what Brittany had been doing and holding her the proper way.

Brittany, after looking and seeing that Rachel was holding Babs correctly, hopped off of the bed and rushed over to her desk. She picked up a box that was wrapped in My Little Pony wrapping paper and hurried back over to the bed, dropping down beside Rachel.

"I got you the My Little Pony wrapping paper because you're a girl," Brittany said. "The boys got SpongeBob. Also, because you're kind of like a pony."

Rachel huffed. "I'm not like a pony. That's not very nice, Brittany."

"No, it totally is. You're pretty just like a pony, and you have a really pretty mane," Brittany said, explaining to her like she was a child. She reached out and ran a hand through Rachel's hair. "You're small. I know you like apples because you bring apple slices every day at lunch. And when you get mad, you stomp like a pony. You're totes my little pony, Rach."

Rachel huffed again, because, yet again, Brittany was making an odd amount of sense, even if she didn't like being compared to an animal. When Brittany explained it, though, it didn't seem that bad. Brittany just had such an odd way of looking at the world. Plus, she called her pretty. "I guess…" Rachel said reluctantly.

"Don't be upset," Brittany said. "Santana calls me her little ducky." She then covered her mouth. Rachel stared, and when the taller girl finally removed her hands, she said, "I think that was one of those things I wasn't supposed to tell people."

"It's okay," Rachel said, copying what Brittany had said earlier. "I won't tell anyone. We're best friends now, right? That's what we do."

At that, Brittany threw out her arms and pulled Rachel and Babs into a hug, squeezing the kitten between them. "I knew I was right," Brittany said. "I just knew you'd be the best best friend a best friend could have." After a long moment of hugging, Brittany finally let Rachel go and picked the box back up. "Here."

Rachel set Babs down on the comforter between her and Brittany and picked up the box. She shook it once, listening at the side like she'd be able to hear what her present was. This caused Brittany to laugh at her, which caused Rachel to laugh at herself. Moving the box back in front of her, she started peeling away the bow and wrapping paper. The wrapping job wasn't nearly as fancy looking as Quinn's had been, and there was entirely too much tape used, but, looking between the box and Brittany's eager face, Rachel could tell it was done from the heart.

Looking down at the now unwrapped box, it was clearly a shoe box, but used. Lifting off the lid, Rachel looked in and found dozens, maybe hundreds of bracelets. There were the rubber ones like Lance Armstrong and Stephen Colbert wore for their different charities and organizations. There were stretchy rubber band like bracelets. There were metal and hard plastic bangles. There were even some hand-woven cloth ones. She had no idea what to make of it and looked up at Brittany for some type of explanation. It was clear the blonde was excited about the present. Rachel just didn't understand why.

"They're bracelets," Brittany said, stating the obvious. "When I was with Quinn picking out Babs, I bought you some, but then when I got home yesterday morning and started to wrap them, I realized it wasn't special enough. You're my best friend, so I had to do something even specialer. So I went over to San's house and took all the bracelets she had, then I went over to Quinn's and took all hers. Then I went to visit Mercedes and Tina and told them what I was doing, and they gave me some of theirs, too. I went to Kurt's house, too, but Mr. Burt said he wasn't home. He was out with his Warbler friend. Anyway, then I went back home, and I asked mom and Ashley for all theirs, too. So, yeah, that's how I got all of them."

Brittany was silent for a minute, proud of her explanation, but Rachel still didn't understand. She didn't want to seem ungrateful, though. Especially since she had put so much time and effort into getting her such an assortment. "Um… thanks, Brittany. That's really… nice."

"I thought so, too," Brittany said. "Now you don't have to wear baggy clothes all the time."

More confusion. "Baggy clothes?"

Brittany reached out tenderly and grasped Rachel's good hand, pulling it closer to her body. Gently, as if she might hurt Rachel, she lifted up the long shirt sleeve, revealing the ugly, jagged wound from almost exactly a week ago. "I know you've been hiding your scar under your baggy clothes," Brittany said, voice soft. "The cute pink hoodie, the long-sleeved pajamas, the long-sleeved dress you wore after you got out of the shower yesterday. I guessed you were, I don't know… embarrassed, maybe? I could tell you didn't want anyone to see what you did. But… people already know what you did. Like the women in the mall. And I think they're going to stare anyway because sometimes people forget they're supposed to be nice. So I thought we could decorate your arm instead. If people are going to look, then we could give them something to look at. Here."

Brittany let go of Rachel's hand and picked the box up, sifting and sorting through until she found the one she wanted. "I made this for Lord Tubbington at camp a few years ago. That was when he was still 'Sir' Tubbington, before he was promoted up. I thought it would make a nice friendship collar for him, but he wouldn't wear it. I think he didn't like the color." Rachel looked at it, the tears already collecting in her eyes. It was pink and purple, with a bright yellow stripe zigzagging down the middle. "But I like it, and I said to myself that I would give it to my best friend someday. Except then I forgot about it and never gave it to Santana. Now I realized that's because she was never meant to be my bestie. You were, Rachel. So this is for you." And with that, she reached out, steadying Rachel's wrist, and tied it loosely over her lacerations. She then bent her head down and kissed the spot right above it, careful not to touch the actual place with her lips.

Rachel couldn't hold it back anymore. She took her hand from Brittany and turned slightly away from her, head bowed in her hands as the tears came down. She didn't deserve anyone being this nice to her. Not Brittany or Quinn or even Santana. And Mercedes and Tina? She thought they didn't like her, that they were just visiting her out of guilt or morbid curiosity or something. It didn't make any sense. None of it made any sense. Before she could get lost in her own anxiety, though, Brittany was wrapping her arms around the smaller diva and pulling her in close.

"Don't' cry, Rachel," Brittany said, shushing her. "It's Christmas, and you're not supposed to cry on Christmas. And I know you don't know that rule because you're Jewish like Puck and the rabbits-"

"Rabbis," Rachel corrected with a wet chuckle.

"Right," Brittany said. "But even though, it still applies to you. So no more tears."

And Rachel did start feeling marginally better. She pulled back from Brittany, wiping away at her eyes with the sleeve of her long shirt. "You're right, you're right, I'm sorry," Rachel said, a few traitorous tears still leaking out. "I'm just… this is such a… first Babs, and now this. You and Quinn, and Santana with the clothes. I've never had friends before. None that actually cared about me, anyway. This is such an amazing day, Brittany. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Rach," Brittany said, giving her another long squeezing hug. Finally pulling back, she added, "Now about this Lion King 2…?"

* * *

Sometime after Rachel had fallen asleep with her head inappropriately placed on her chest, Quinn had gotten a text from Brittany asking if she could come over yet and see Rachel's new kitten. Brittany had been so excited when they had picked it out that she couldn't possibly say no, so she agreed. It would be nice to hand Rachel off to someone else so she could go. She didn't want to leave Rachel, but it was Christmas and she still hadn't even seen her mom yet. Nor had she been by Sam's to give him his present, though that was a trip she wasn't looking forward to as much. And besides, she knew that there were no better hands to leave Rachel in than Brittany's.

Once Brittany had made her way upstairs, and God, she wished she could have seen the first impression on the Misters Berry by Brittany. That's a conversation she would have paid to have seen. Once Brittany was upstairs, though, Quinn smacked her lightly on the arm and whispered, "Tag. You're it."

"Yay!" Brittany whisper-yelled and clapped her hands quietly. She watched as the taller blonde's eyes went straight over to the bed where Rachel lay curled on her side. Over on the corner of the bed, Babs was watching the two blondes with curiosity and a little… aggravation? Was it possible for a kitten that small to be upset they'd woken it up? She'd have to ask Britts that one later.

Making her way downstairs, Quinn said her goodbyes to Leroy and Hiram, then found herself in her car and driving over towards Sam's house. She had her iPod plugged in and was listening to her Christmas playlist. The car went silent for a moment as the last song finished, then through the speakers she heard Rachel's voice.

"_Where are you Christmas?  
__Why can't I find you?  
__Why have you gone away?"_

It was the very same song she'd been listening to a week ago as she'd been getting ready to go to some stupid party of Puck's instead of to Rachel's. A week. Not even that, since it was still early. It was still almost seven hours until it would be a week since. And look at how much had changed in just that week.

Quinn wanted to think that life wasn't like that. That there weren't these big moments that defined her life. The problem was, the last couple of years had felt like nothing _but_ big moments that had changed her life. The little blue plus on the pregnancy test. Her father setting the timer on the microwave. Finn punching Puck in the choir room. Signing the documents to give her baby away. Walking out to sing at Sectionals with her boyfriend. Seeing Rachel say goodbye on her computer screen. Seeing the girl bleeding to death in her bathtub. Telling her in the hospital that she'd be honest with her. Waking up wrapped around her and feeling how right it was. Her mom saying she didn't believe being gay was a sin. The picture of Lucy Caboosey crying and deciding her life couldn't be like that anymore.

What did it all mean? Was the universe trying to tell her something? Some moments stood out more than others. Lucy wanting to change her life. Her mom didn't think being gay was a sin. Waking up with Rachel felt right. It repeated in her head, over and over. Change her life, not a sin, Rachel felt right. Change her life, not a sin, Rachel felt right. Change her life, not a sin, Rachel felt right.

Before she knew it, she was parked in Sam's driveway. Getting out with present in hand. Ringing the doorbell. Change her life, not a sin, Rachel felt right. It was there in front of her. The future. She could feel it. Everything was barreling out of control in her head. The moments, all leading up to this one. It would be so easy. To change her life. To not worry about it being a sin. To do what felt right. Rachel. She could be with Ra-

"Quinn?" Sam asked, opening the door. "I… I didn't expect you to come over. I've been calling you."

"I know," Quinn said simply. "I got you a present. Something…" '_You fucking coward, Quinn'_, her inner… well fuck. It was just her inner Quinn this time. No one else she could blame it on. Just her. "Something we could share together. Something I could share with you. I know you've been wanting me to open up more, and I… I want that, too. I want to try. With you. If you still want me."

Sam smiled his overly large smile and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up and spinning her around. "Of course I still want you."

Quinn wanted to scream, to yell at him to put her down. She wanted to run out of there and back to Rachel. She wanted to take her spot back as Rachel's pillow, watch Buffy with her, play with Babs with her, and just be happy. Be there for her. Be whatever she needed to be for Rachel. She wanted a lot of things.

Instead she kissed Sam as he let her down and tried not to hate herself. At least she could admit it now, if only to herself inside her own head, the words that she would never speak aloud. She liked Rachel Berry. No, more than that. She had a crush on Rachel. Another girl.

It had been a long week.


	19. Chapter 19: Christmas Night

**Author's Note: I don't really have anything to say here besides I'm glad you're liking what I'm doing. Please enjoy, and drop me a review if you want. They make my day.**

**Oh, I know. Here would be a good place to say *ahem* I don't own Glee. I know, it's a shock to me, too. Also, all spelling mistakes are Microsoft Word's fault. Any missing words or abuses of the English language are all on me, though. I have a tendency to get excited over what I'm writing/editing and miss a word. My bad.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

They gathered at Rachel's house.

It started with Brittany. After giving Rachel the box of bracelets and watching The Lion King 2, they started back watching Buffy. Quinn, Santana, and Brittany had all watched and enjoyed every episode, some of them multiple times, so it never mattered that they were there watching repeats. It was all new to Rachel and she was enjoying them, so they were happy for her. Brittany told her the show was one of the first things the three had in common. Buffy and cheerleading. Now it was something the four of them would have.

Rachel lay with Brittany watching the television. It wasn't like she had been with Quinn, up against the headboard, close to each other, eventually laying down. No, Brittany lay like Rachel used to in front of the television when she had watched cartoons as a little girl. On her stomach, chin perched on her fists, socked feet kicking around in the air behind her. It made Rachel do the same, and she loved it.

Brittany's exuberance was contagious, and it made the whole thing more entertaining, more social. Everything funny was funnier when laughing with Brittany. Everything sad was sadder. Everything scary was more fun since she had Brittany to hide her eyes with. They were both hiding behind their hands, though, so neither knew when to look again. Brittany made watching Buffy better and made Rachel forget about things. Mostly.

There were times when something onscreen would remind Rachel of everything, and she would zone out for a while. Her thoughts couldn't help but wander, it seemed. At some point she found herself thinking of Finn and how he was spending his Christmas. Rachel had gotten him a present before they had broken up, and she wondered if he would still want it. She still loved Finn. She didn't think he was her 'soul mate' or any ridiculous idea such as that. Sappy, romantic notions died a week ago in that bathtub. But Rachel did still care about him. She would probably even date him again, if he wanted to. Therein lay the problem, though. She doubted he would ever want to again. If she had been high maintenance before with just her normal amounts of 'crazy', Rachel considered herself at a previously undiscovered level now. Now she was dealing with actual crazy. Medicated psychological problems crazy. It was a wonder Quinn had been able to deal with everything.

Quinn was another problem. Well, no, not a problem. An issue. Or maybe a topic. A subject? Quinn was a… something, at least. Rachel liked her; that much she'd realized when she'd woken up in Brittany's arms and thought/wished/hoped they were Quinn's. She just didn't want to. Rachel knew that if Quinn found out she liked her, she would _definitely_ scare her off, and Rachel didn't think she could survive without Quinn. _Okay, well, wow, that was melodramatic. Take two._ Rachel didn't think she could survive _school_ without Quinn… and Brittany and Santana, of course. They were going to be like her entourage or her knights (_knightesses? What's a female knight called?_) in Cheerios uniforms.

That's what they'd said, at least. Rachel still had her doubts, but they'd said they were going to keep the bullies at bay. If not for that feeling of protection, Rachel would rather have dropped out than gone back. Because, now, not only were there going to be bullies but also gawkers and whisperers and starers. The talking behind her back wouldn't be lies like they'd been about her being a transvestite or a man or something ridiculous like that. No, these whispers behind hands, if she were lucky enough to get even that courtesy, would be about her suicide attempt, her hospital stay, her depression.

Without warning, Brittany reached an arm over Rachel's shoulders and pulled her into an awkward laying-down side-hug. She squeezed her for a minute before releasing her with a "You just looked like you needed it" before going back to watching their show. It was still weird being comforted by Brittany, but it was apparently something she'd been doing for years.

The slushees had started the third day of school freshman year. Rachel was wearing one of her favorite outfits: a white, long-sleeved button up with flared-out cuffs, a handmade sweater-vest from her grandmother with a pale pink pig on the front, a light denim skirt, white knee high socks to match the shirt, and tan Mary Janes to match the sweater-vest. It wasn't first day of school good, but it was in the top five of her favorite outfits.

And ahead of her in the hall in all her glory was the girl from her geometry class, Quinn Fabray. She wore a cheerleading outfit like all the other "_Cheerios_" wore. W_hat a silly name for a group, _Rachel thought_. It isn't even that good of a breakfast cereal_. She looked nervous, carrying that giant cup in front of her and looking around the hall, and _oh God,_ _she's looking at me_._ She's looking at me, and she's so beautiful I can't breathe and oh God, oh God, what do I do?_ Rachel thought the girl was probably just as nervous as she was, this being a new school, because, really, who didn't get nervous at a new school, right? So she would just befriend her and together they would find their way around and she would have her first actual friend.

Rachel was already putting up her show smile and starting to say "Hi, I'm Rac-" but that was as far as she got when the 40 ounces of grape slushee hit her square in the face.

It was so cold it physically hurt. That was her first thought. After that was why? Did the girl trip? Was she okay? Did she need to get her medical attention? She wiped away the grape slushee from her eyes and looked at the girl who had a look of complete shock on her face, like she couldn't believe that had just happened.

At first, Rachel expected an apology as any civilized person would do. Quinn was looking between Rachel and something behind her, though, and finally muttered, "Welcome to McKinley, troll" before walking off. As Rachel stood there, she turned, her eyes following the blonde towards a group of senior cheerleaders that were laughing and pointing at Rachel while congratulating Quinn. It seemed Rachel had been some sort of initiation. Well, at least it was nice of them to wait until the last class of the day was over.

Rachel told her Dad about the incident in the car, and they were both aware that the bullying she'd received all through middle school had followed her to high school. The next day, both of her dads had gone with her to the principal where they were informed that slushees were not considered instruments of bullying, and that there was nothing he could do besides make sure his faculty keeps an eye out for Rachel. _Lot of good that did_.

Between second and third period that next day, Rachel had found the first note in her locker. It was written in pink pen on a page torn from a notebook and folded up like an origami swan. Unfolding it, which she hated to do it was so beautiful, she read the message:

_Dear short pretty girl,_

_Sorry about the mean girl yesterday. She didn't actually want to be mean to you. She just had to prove herself to the bitchy cheerleaders. Sorry if the naughty language offends you, but (a name was completely crossed out here) my friend says that's what they are, and that the other cheerleaders have to fall in line if they want to survive. I hope they leave you alone now._

_I hope someday we can be friends. We can't right now because... just because. But maybe one day? I think that would be fun. You seem really nice._

_-Your friend_

_Ps. I liked your pig sweater. I hope he's okay._

After that, every time Rachel was slusheed, another note was left in her locker. Sometimes they were typed rather than handwritten. Sometimes they would have poems copied from books or hand drawn pictures or pictures of beautiful vistas printed out, and they would always cheer Rachel up.

On Valentine's Day of her freshman year, she received three valentines which was three more than she'd thought she'd ever get. The first was handmade from construction paper and glue and ribbons. It was from her secret friend and read:

_Dearest Rachel,_

_I know you don't have someone special today and that sucks, but it's okay because I don't either. Well, not really. You deserve the best, and if I wasn't already in love with someone, I would totally be in love with you. Really though, I'm already kind of in love with you. We just can't do anything about it. :-( There are people that like you, though. I got two guys that I know have been checking you out (you have really sexy legs, btw) to give you valentines, too. So while some people only have one boyfriend or girlfriend today, you have two boyfriends and a girlfriend who would totally hit that, so you're like 3X better than those girls._

_-Your ninja valentine_

_Ps. I don't know if you like boys or girls. I like both. I hope you don't think I'm weird because of that, but even if you do, I'll still be your friend._

The other two (from Mike and Matt, Rachel later came to learn) had been more store-bought standard but still very sweet. They also had heart-felt anonymous messages in them. So while Quinn Fabray paraded her senior boyfriend around the school like an oversized accessory, Rachel had three people that genuinely cared about her. And even if she did sit at home that night and watch movies with her dads, Rachel had still felt like the luckier one.

This time, Rachel reached out to Brittany and pulled her in for the awkward laying-down side-hug. Brittany stopped watching the show and did some kind of roll that left Brittany underneath Rachel and hugging her for all she was worth.

"Thank you for being my friend, Brittany," Rachel said. "Not just now, but for the last few years, too."

"You don't have to thank me," Brittany said. "I love you, Rachel."

"I love you, too, Brittany."

"Good," Brittany said, smiling. "Just don't tell Santana. She gets insane sometimes."

At some point, Brittany texted her mom and asked if she could stay and hang out with Rachel. Her mother had said yes. When Rachel asked Brittany about it being Christmas and didn't she want to go be with her family, Brittany just shrugged and said, "They know I need to be here more," like it was just that simple. Rachel wished it was.

They continued watching episodes of Buffy into the evening when Santana showed up with a "Hey" before kicking off her shoes and dropping down on Brittany's other side, adopting the way they were both laying. She would have said more, probably something biting and hurtful because, as Rachel was quickly finding out that's just how she was, but as soon as she walked in, her eyes were on the television. "Oh, I love this episode." And then she was off, talking about everything that happened onscreen, making snarky comments over Willow's outfits and how she hadn't realized they were just like Rachel's, i.e. hideous. "Damn, Berry, I don't know why I never noticed it before. You two are like closet sisters."

"Rachel's not in the closet," Brittany said. "She just likes everyone. Like me."

"I meant literal closet, B," Santana said.

"Like for her music?"

"Not lyrical, Brittany," Rachel said. "Literal. It means actual or real. She means Willow and I share the same taste in clothes sometimes."

"Oh," Brittany said, turning back to the television. "Well, I like Rachel's outfits. Her animal sweaters make me happy. They look like the ones my Nana wears."

"Thanks for proving my point, Britts," Santana said with a laugh.

Brittany's brow scrunched up while she thought about it. "Oh," she finally said in a small voice. Turning to Rachel, she said, "I don't actually think you're my grandmother. Just that your clothes make me happy because they remind me of her."

"It's okay," Rachel said, patting Brittany's hand. "I understood. And thank you. Besides, Santana bought me all those wonderful new clothes, so I'll look normal at school for once."

The other two girls stayed quiet for a minute at this, and Rachel worried she had said the wrong thing. Again. After a few minutes spent watching the television, Brittany broke the silence with, "I can't wait to see you in that dress. You should totally wear it to Puck's New Year's Eve party."

"See, Berry," Santana said. "I told you that you looked smoking in that dress." When she didn't respond, Santana moved forward and looked past Brittany to where Rachel was laying, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Spill it, short stack."

"I don't think I'm going to Puck's party is all," Rachel said.

"You have to go," Brittany said, and now all eyes were on her. "It'll be fun. And everyone will get a chance to see that you're okay. I mean, y'know, not dead. They'll be all happy for you for that." She looked back and forth between Santana and Rachel. "Right?"

They were both hesitant to speak, but it was Santana who finally did. "Remember the stuff Missy said, B?" Brittany nodded her head sadly. "Well, I think most of the other jocks and Cheerios might feel the same way. They don't know Berry like you do, so they don't know how… for lack of a better word, let's say 'cool'," Santana made air quotes, "she is yet. And Puck's drunken party may not be the best way to show them."

"But I want Rachel there," Brittany said, pouting. "She's my BFF, and we have to do stuff like this together now."

"It's okay, Brittany," Rachel said. "You can be BFFs with Santana that night."

"Santana won't want to be around me," Brittany said, turning to Santana to apologize with a "Sorry, but it's true. Artie's going to be there, and you're going to be all huffy and hanging on Puck or somebody."

Santana wasn't going to respond because just the mention of Artie's name had her looking away, so it was up to Rachel. "Brittany, I just don't think it's a good idea. I can't drink because of the medications I'm on, I just broke up with Finn not too long ago, I made out with Puck to do it, _and_ I'm pretty sure my dads won't let me go." Brittany was pouting at this, so Rachel added, "Maybe we can hang out earlier that day or the next day if you wanted to."

Brittany sighed, and it was just sad to hear that coming from her. "Okay," she said reluctantly. "But when you're better, you have to come to a party. I've never danced with you, and I bet it'd be really fun. You're really good. And I think you're probably really affectionate when you're drunk."

"I doubt it," Rachel said, thinking back to nearly a week ago this time, screaming as Quinn tried to get the knife away from her.

* * *

Quinn was the last of the girls to show up that Christmas night.

After spending time already with Rachel that morning, then Sam and his family for a couple of hours, then with her mom exchanging gifts, she found herself back over at Rachel's. Her mom was still reluctant to let her go, and she felt bad for leaving her. It was her and her mom's first Christmas without Russell who was off visiting Frannie and her husband. Quinn didn't want to leave her mom, but she wanted to be there for Rachel. It was almost six o'clock. It was getting perilously close to exactly a week since Rachel tried to take her life. She didn't think Rachel would do something stupid like try to take her life again, but, then again, she'd never thought the brunette would try in the first place.

"Mom, you're welcome to come," Quinn offered. "I'm sure Hiram and Leroy would like to have another adult to talk to rather than just babysitting Rachel."

"Oh, I don't think so," Judy said hesitantly. "It would be rude of me to just show up uninvited, especially meeting them for the first time like that. I'm sure they wouldn't want a stranger showing up on their doorstep on Christmas night."

"They're Jewish, mom," Quinn said. "I think it's just a Saturday night to them."

"Even so."

After that, Quinn was able to talk her mom into letting her go and spend a couple of hours at Rachel's house. The unspoken truth of it was that she was going to go no matter what, and they both knew it. It was as if, after kicking her out and then begging her to come back, Judy didn't feel able to discipline Quinn because her daughter didn't really need her. Quinn, despite recognizing the fact early on, hadn't pushed it to the point where she needed disciplining. It was a system that was working out for both of them, but one her friendship with Rachel was threatening to break.

Arriving at the Berry house, she rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer it. Quinn had noted Santana's car in the driveway and Brittany's bicycle in the same place she'd seen it that morning when she had left. It seemed that everyone had the same idea she did. She checked her phone as she waited patiently at the door, shivering in the December evening. She looked at the time. 6:27pm. A week ago exactly, she'd been watching Rachel's last video.

"Ah, another stray teenager," Hiram said, opening the door and ushering her into the warmth of the house. "I hope you're doing well this Christmas night."

"I am, thank you," Quinn said, returning his smile. "I saw Brittany's bike is still here. And is that Santana's car out in the driveway?"

"Right in one," Hiram said then paused, thoughtful. "Santana is… interesting."

"Interesting?"

"Well… Is every compliment she gives so… backhanded?" Hiram asked, and Quinn could see where Rachel got her uncertainty about people liking her from. She could tell just by looking at him that Hiram had been picked on in school, probably a lot, like Kurt had been. Quinn then remembered that her father had been one of the people that had done it to him, and she suddenly hoped he didn't get death threats like Kurt had. She especially hoped they hadn't been from Russell Fabray.

God, why didn't this man hate her? But she knew the answer already. Hiram was like a male version of Rachel, and if Rachel was that quick to forgive Quinn, then so would Hiram. Hiram, like Rachel, was too soft for death threats. Too soft for the world in general. Kurt hadn't been. Kurt was bitter and sarcastic and pushed back, but Hiram? Rachel? They just brushed themselves off and tried to continue being nice to everyone until they made it out. Or until it broke them.

"I don't get the feeling she hates us, per se," Hiram was saying, still talking about Santana, "but she… I don't know. She just seemed like she couldn't _not_ be rude."

"That's Santana in a nutshell," Quinn said. "But if she was complimenting your house at all- it's lovely by the way. I don't think I've gotten a chance to say that with… everything."

"Thank you."

"But if San was saying anything nice then she was at least trying. You have to listen to her meaning more than the words she's actually saying. Her and Brittany both."

Hiram's face lit up at the mention of the taller blonde like everyone's did. Everyone fell a little in love with her. "Brittany's been a sweetheart! She's so funny and charming, and says the strangest things but she's very perceptive. She even…" He paused, looking back towards the kitchen and upstairs to make sure no one was around. Dropping his voice, he continued, "She even told me in private that she was sorry Lee and I were having problems, but that we still loved each other very much and that kind of love was rare and beautiful and that we should hold onto it. I was so taken aback. I asked Rachel later if she had told anyone about our… marital issues… but she said she hadn't. I was just…" And he trailed off, at a loss for words.

"I think…" Quinn started off slowly, thinking back over the last couple of days, the last couple of years even, to all the advice Brittany had given her. "I think sometimes that Brittany might be the smartest person I know. And she's almost never wrong."

They were both silent for a moment, lost in their own thoughts, before Hiram cleared his throat and said, "Yes, well, umm… The other girls are just upstairs. If you don't mind, ask them if they're staying for dinner and, if so, to think about what they want from the Chinese place."

"Yes sir," Quinn said, returning his friendly smile. She had just started up the stairs when she heard Leroy's voice.

"Quinn," he said as he walked out from the kitchen. "I thought I heard you. Would you mind coming back down here for just a minute."

Much like Coach Sue whenever she called her out, Quinn automatically started going over what she might have done wrong. It was a laundry list of crimes against Rachel, but the only new one was what they'd done to her yesterday, "motivating" her to run. Well, that and breaking into their house that morning. And rearranging the furniture in the living room without moving anything back. And getting the kitten in the first place. If it had caused any damage or anything, that was kind of on her, too.

Schooling her face into a mask of politeness, she turned back and headed down the couple of stairs, coming up just short of Leroy and Hiram. "Yes?"

Again the Fabray charm was flowing, but she'd been so open and honest with Hiram just moments ago that she knew he could sense the difference. He tried to pacify her, saying, "It's nothing bad, Quinn, don't worry."

"No, nothing bad," Leroy said, repeating his husband. "I was just wondering if you could answer a question for us since you're Rachel's _new best friend_ and all."

"I'll be glad to if I can," Quinn said. "If you can manage to ask me without the enmity."

Leroy arched a questioning eyebrow at Quinn and glared, and she mirrored him, not backing down. She had more than perfected that look growing up a Fabray with her mother and sister. She used it every day and ruled William McKinley High because of it. Well that, and her ability to manipulate, abuse, and terrify. Quinn Fabray backed down to no one. She'd stood up to Mr. Schuester, Principal Figgins, Coach Sue. Who was Leroy Berry compared to them?

"You know…" Leroy drawled out, finally cracking a smile, "in another world, I think I would really have liked you."

Quinn cracked a similar grin. "Give me a chance like your daughter has, and you might even like me in this one."

"Touché, Miss Fabray," Leroy said. "Touché."

"Okay, so if this little confrontation is over," Hiram said, "perhaps we could step into the kitchen and talk for a moment like civilized human beings."

He led the way over to the island, him and Leroy on one side of it, Quinn on the other. It was so reminiscent of the way she and Rachel had stood off around the island, doing her best to corner Rachel and get the knife out of her hand. Circling, slower then faster. Rachel had been drunk and depressed and screaming with rage and Quinn still hadn't been able to stop her. The girl was nothing if not determined.

"Quinn?"

"Sorry," she said, shaking the memories away. Let her nightmares deal with them. "Just… thinking."

"Yes, well," Hiram said, starting out. "You may not know, but you seemed to be well informed about our daughter, more so than we are at times, so we wanted to ask you before we questioned Rachel as she may not be up to answering our questions on this subject with it being so touchy and all. There was just an issue in the notes that we hadn't previously discussed with her, and, seeing as how she shouldn't have had prior knowledge on the subject at hand, it shouldn't have even been an issue to begi-"

Leroy raising his hand stopped Hiram. "What my rambling husband is trying to say-" Hiram slapped Leroy hard on the arm at the insult. "Ow." Leroy shot him a disarming apologetic smile and continued. "What we mean to ask is, do you know how Rachel knows about Shelby Corcoran?"

Quinn froze. This was the last thing she expected to hear. She wasn't sure what she expected to hear, honestly, but it wasn't this. Maybe something about school or about their Glee club teammates or… something. It seemed like everything kept coming back to last year and her pregnancy. Quinn just wanted to forget about it all. "She never told you two how she met Shelby?"

"No," Leroy said. "She shouldn't even know who she is, much less have feelings of being replaced by some other child. Beth, her letters said." And, God, Quinn's heart felt like it was going to stop. That night in the hospital, she, Hiram, and Leroy had spent much of the night talking. When she'd found out Hiram had been bullied by Russell Fabray, Quinn had shared that she'd been pregnant and kicked out by the same man. She'd never gone into detail about what happened to the baby besides mentioning that she was adopted.

They must have taken Quinn's silence as an unwillingness to answer. Hiram added, "Quinn, we're all only trying to help Rachel. We can't help her, explain things to her, unless we know what she knows already."

"Jesse," Quinn said finally. "Jesse St. James started it, from what I've heard Rachel saying. It was a stupid Glee club assignment where we were supposed to think about our dreams. Hers was having a mother." Hiram and Leroy looked at each other, hurt by this news. "Not that she'd ever trade having you two. I think she just wanted to know where she came from. So Jesse came up with the idea of going through her baby stuff in the basement, and they found the tape Shelby left her."

"A tape?" Leroy asked. "Are you sure?"

"I'm certain," Quinn said, recalling the trip to Carmel to spy on their Regionals rehearsals. It had been Rachel, Quinn, and Mercedes. Rachel didn't have a license at the time and couldn't drive so Mercedes had volunteered to make the nearly three hour drive with her. Quinn hated staying at Mercedes's house by herself with Mercedes's parents working late, so she'd offered to go with them. On the way back, Rachel had talked nearly nonstop about meeting her mother, about the tape, and how Shelby hadn't seemed nearly as excited about the experience as Rachel had been. "I had to hear about it the whole drive back from Carmel the night Rachel met Shelby. It was a tape that had her singing on it. 'I Dreamed a Dream' from Les Miserables."

Hiram and Leroy shared a look, this time confused, slightly angry. "There wasn't a tape in Rachel's baby stuff."

"There must have been," Quinn said, "I remember Rachel said she and Jesse found-" She paused, everything falling into place. "That lying son of a bitch. Jesse planted the tape for Shelby. He must have. Jesse was the lead vocalist last year for Vocal Adrenaline and Shelby was the coach. There's no way it's a coincidence. God, why didn't I see this before? He only got close to Rachel for Shelby. I swear, if I ever see St. Jackass again, I'm going to-"

Meanwhile, as Quinn went off on an angry tangent about Jesse, Leroy was doing the same about Shelby. "That selfish bitch. I can't believe she'd go against the contract like that and make contact with Rachel before she was eighteen. It was all there in black and white and she couldn't even wait another two years before she stuck her nose in Rachel's life. We're going to sue her for every cent she has and-"

"Wait, you can't!" Quinn nearly yelled. She'd only been half-hearing what Leroy was saying, angry as she was at Jesse for using Rachel like that, but that caught her attention. All focus was on Quinn again, and she looked down, unable to meet their eyes. "You can't sue Shelby. She has… she has a daughter to provide for, and you can't punish her. Shelby or… or the baby."

"Why not?!" Leroy asked. Quinn looked up to see the fire was still there in his eyes, but Hiram's were softer, more like Rachel, and she could tell he had an idea of why not. "Shelby chose a new baby over trying to know the daughter she already had. What kind of selfish-"

"Lee," Hiram said gently, placing a hand on his arm. "Just take a calming breath, sweetie."

"This is no time for a calming breath, H," Leroy said. "She broke the contract, and we're going to-" but it was about this time that Leroy turned again and saw Quinn, head down in shame, and he stopped. "Quinn?"

She was silent for a minute, and she swore to herself she wasn't going to cry, but it was like she was in that lawyer's office all over again. Sitting there with her mother beside her, Shelby on the other side of the table, lawyer sitting at the head, documents being passed between them to sign. She was signing her daughter's life away. She knew it was for the best, that it was either Shelby or foster care, and Quinn wouldn't let the baby… no, it hadn't been 'the baby' then. It had been _her_ baby. Beth. She wouldn't let _Beth_ be put in foster care where she had no idea what would happen to her. Quinn wasn't ready to raise a child, wasn't ready to be a mother, but she would if she had to. She knew that much.

"It was perfect timing," Quinn said quietly, sniffling to keep the tears at bay. "I hadn't done any planning for Beth because I didn't have anybody. I didn't know what to do. The Joneses gave me a room and fed me, but they didn't know what to do for a pregnant sixteen year old. And I thought I had another month to figure it out. But then I was suddenly in the hospital, and Beth was being born, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't let her be put in the system. I _couldn't_. And Shelby… she showed up at the perfect time, and she wanted a daughter, and… and, God, I knew it would destroy Rachel, but I didn't care. I didn't. I had to choose between Rachel's happiness and my daughter's, and I chose Beth's. And I would choose her every time."

"Quinn…" Hiram stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug, and she still refused to cry.

"I thought," Quinn said, sniffling again. "I thought if Shelby cared about people as much as Rachel does… I mean, sure, Rachel will crush people to get to the top, but she always feels bad about it. And she would do anything for Glee club. I've seen her. And… the panties…" Leroy and Hiram shared another confused look. "It might have been for Finn, but it was for me, too. And I still yelled at her and told her to stay away from Finn. God, what's wrong with me?" And then she was crying into Hiram's shoulder, and it was comforting because he was soft and sweet like Rachel, and that's what she needed, what she wanted. Someone like Rachel.

"Quinn," Hiram said after letting her cry for a few minutes. "I don't know all the details, but it sounds like you did the right thing by Beth. When Leroy and I screened potential surrogates, we did so by IQ and beauty, but also by personality. Shelby, at least when we knew her, was a good person. And I'm sure if you had any kind of reservations about her when you met her, that you wouldn't have entrusted her with the most precious thing you had. I think you made the right decision, and we would never do something to jeopardize the welfare of your daughter. Leroy was just angry when he said that, sweetie."

"I was," Leroy said. "And I'm sorry. I would still like to talk to Shelby about boundaries, but we wouldn't make any hasty decisions without talking to you about them first."

"Thank you," Quinn said, pulling back and wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually this emotional."

"Have you met our daughter?" Leroy asked sarcastically. "Trust me, this is nothing. Typical Saturday night fare for little miss diva."

"Speaking of," Hiram said, "why don't you head on up to the girls and see about their Chinese orders, okay?"

"Sure," Quinn said, then, "Thank you." She had just started walking away when something occurred to her, and she turned back to them. "Hiram? Leroy?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to tell Shelby about Rachel?" Quinn asked. "About her… about what she did?" They both stared at each other like they hadn't considered it, and she guessed they hadn't, not knowing the extent to which Rachel knew about Shelby. "I just… if it were the… if it were _Beth_… I would want to know. You don't owe her anything, but…" She stopped, unsure of what else to say. "I would want to know." And she left them to themselves to talk it over. It wasn't her decision, and she could never make them, but if something happened to Beth…? Quinn didn't want to think about how much she'd be hurting.

* * *

When Quinn made her way to Rachel's room, after stopping off to wash her face and do her best to look like she hadn't just been crying, she found Rachel asleep on one side of her bed with Santana and Brittany on the other side playing with Babs. The kitten was the first to notice her, stopping what it was doing to look up and give her a welcoming "mew".

"Quinn!" Brittany whisper-yelled to keep from waking Rachel up. She jumped from the bed and ran over to Quinn, lifting her up in a hug and spinning her around. "Merry Christmas!"

"B, I saw you this morning," Quinn whispered between giggles.

"I know," Brittany said. "I was just excited to see you. Rachel's being boring, and Santana won't make out with me, and I thought you'd be more fun."

"I'm not making out with you, either," Quinn said, still smiling.

"I know," Brittany said, happy at the thought. "It'd be fun, though, right?"

"I'd have a line of people wanting to kick my ass, Britts," Quinn said, shooting Santana a glance. "Everybody loves you too much. So why won't Santana make out with you?"

"She said it'd be weird with Rachel beside us," Brittany said. "Like she might wake up and want to watch or something. I thought it sounded kinda hot."

"I'm right here," Santana said, picking up Babs.

"Of course you are, San," Brittany said, walking over and petting her on the head. "Who else would I be talking about? Rachel? It's wrong to kiss someone in their sleep. Or, at least the first time." Brittany looked contemplatively over at Rachel who was softly snoring. After a moment, she said, "I think Rachel would be really fun to kiss, too. I think I'll ask her when she wakes up."

Santana's eyes nearly bugged out of her head, and she must have squeezed Babs a little too hard because the kitten let out another "mew". "Sorry, chica," Santana said, rubbing the kitten between her ears.

"Or maybe you should stick to the people you already make out with," Quinn said, voice slightly icier than it had been previously. She was almost never harsh with Brittany, because, really, if there was anyone the puppy-kicking analogy had been made for, it was Brittany. She was talking about kissing Rachel, though, and Quinn couldn't allow that. Not when she'd just realized she liked her. "It might just confuse Rachel or make things weird between you two, and we can't have that. Then how could you help us protect her if she was worried about being around you?"

"But…" Brittany started, thinking. "Even if I asked her first? Then it'd be okay, right?"

"Brittany," Quinn said. "No kissing Rachel. Even if she let you, and she would because everyone likes you, she might not _really_ want to kiss you. She might be uncomfortable inside."

"No, she wouldn't be," Brittany said. "Rachel's like me. She likes everyone."

Quinn sighed, because Rachel was that nice. She knew that if Brittany asked her to do it, Rachel would kiss her. It was hard to say no to Brittany. Hell, she'd gotten Kurt to make out with her last year, and he was the gayest person she'd ever met. "Just because Rachel's nice, Britts, doesn't mean-"

"No, I'm not saying it right," Brittany said, shaking her head. "I mean, Rachel likes boys and girls. She told me."

"What?" Quinn asked far too loud, and Rachel popped her head up from the bed, looking around.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked blearily. "What are you…? Did someone yell? Is everything okay?"

"Sorry," Quinn said sheepishly.

"Yeah," Brittany said. "We were talking about how you like-"

"Chinese food!" Quinn yelled, cutting her off. "We were talking about how you, well, all of us, really, like Chinese food. Your dads are ordering and they wanted to know what everyone wanted." Brittany looked at Quinn confused, but she gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head, and Brittany let it go. "We should go tell them." And with that, she yanked Brittany by the arm out of Rachel's room, leaving Santana and the confused looking diva behind.

Down the hall and away from Rachel's room, Quinn asked, "Did she say that, Brittany? Really?"

Brittany nodded. "She told me. Well, she didn't tell me-tell me, but when I asked her, she didn't deny it."

"What were the actual words, Brittany?" Quinn asked, a little too harshly, and- Damn it! -she used her full name. Brittany looked at her wide-eyed, and Quinn started calming her, saying, "Britts, I'm not mad. I promise."

"Q, I didn't think," Brittany said, apologizing anyway. "I'm sorry. I know you like Rachel, and I forgot when I said I wanted to kiss her. I just thought it'd be fun because she's so cute and little. Don't hate me."

"Britts," Quinn said, shushing her. "I could never hate you. Not ever. Don't ever think that, okay?"

"Even if I said I kinda love Rachel a little?" Brittany asked.

Quinn sighed. "Of course you do, Britts. She's kind of like you. We all love her a little. I think maybe even Santana. That's why we're going to take care of her like we take care of you, right?"

"Right," Brittany said, nodding and smiling again.

There was more Quinn wanted to ask Brittany, but Rachel and Santana were coming out of Rachel's bedroom, and there just wasn't time. Rachel was looking so very cute, though, with her hair all lopsided from sleeping on it. Quinn immediately found herself in Rachel's personal space, reaching out to fix her hair.

"Quinn, what are you doing?" Rachel asked, trying to push her arms away.

"Just paying you back so you can… what was it you said?" Quinn asked, pretending to think about it. "Oh, yeah. Put your best foot forward for your dads."

"What?" Rachel asked. "When did I-"

"'_Curse you and your longer reach, Quinn Fabray!'_" Quinn shouted, causing Rachel to go red. "Sound familiar?"

"You bitches are so weird," Santana said, grabbing Brittany's hand and walking away down the steps.

"Come on, Berry," Quinn said, taking Rachel's hand like Santana had done Brittany's and leading her down the steps. "Chinese food awaits."

* * *

As the four girls, Hiram and Leroy sat around the living room watching The Main Event (a Christmas tradition in the Berry house that Rachel had talked the others into sharing with her and her dads, even if they weren't as big of fans of Barbra as Rachel and Hiram were), Rachel looked around at Quinn, Santana, and Brittany. They had been her worst tormentors since that third day of high school. Quinn had thrown the first slushee at Rachel. Santana had picked on her since second grade. Brittany had stood by and let it happen. She should have hated them.

Brittany, though, had been the person to cheer her up the most (besides her dads) since that fourth day of high school. Santana had been the girl in second grade that she'd had a crush on, that she'd given her friendship bracelet to, that had made her think about kissing for the first time. And Quinn had been her first high school crush. Even after the slushees started. She'd been the first girl Rachel had ever had sexual fantasies about. She was the girl Rachel kept offering her friendship to.

Rachel should have hated them, but she didn't. She couldn't'. Because while they had been her worst tormentors, that wasn't all they had been. They'd been more. And they were becoming even more still. Santana was trying her best to be nice to her. She'd bought her clothes so she'd fit in, she'd invited her into her clique, and she'd promised to protect 'her own'. Brittany had pronounced herself Rachel's BFF, and that was something she'd always wanted. Not only that, but Brittany had been living up to those initials ever since. She made Rachel feel a part of something in a way the Glee club never had. And Quinn? Quinn was her crush. The girl that she wanted to date. Her 'complicated'.

But above that, Quinn was her friend, her confidant, the person Rachel felt she could be completely honest with because that's what they'd promised. And unlike Brittany, Quinn would get it. Brittany would smile and hug and try to make her feel better, but Quinn would understand. Quinn would help. That's all she'd been doing for a week now is trying to help. So Rachel would let her, if she could. She would try and get better, if it were possible. And if it wasn't…?

Well, with Barbra Streisand up on the screen, her fathers sitting with Babs on the loveseat and acting closer than she'd seen them in months, Santana and Brittany wrapped around each other in the recliner, and Quinn and Rachel snuggled under a blanket on the couch… right now she just wanted to think that it was possible.


End file.
